Crackling of mustard seeds, a short walk to the vegetable shop a little before all mundane…. a little chill in the air, the shop is still disorganized with freshly arrived vegetables…. heart skips a beat as the fingers flitted through the beans, carrots…. no bargaining today….Musings oblivious to seller’s raised eyebrows “Why so early?”
A heavy bag on the shoulder, yet no irritation….. Crackling of mustard seeds, the gingelly oil and ghee added in wafts through the air, an unexpected tune burst forth…. joyous, yet slightly nervous…. is the salt and chilli ok……. conjured up images of shy children, an old man, woman….. unknown, location unheard of…. yet with me in my little kitchen corner !!
The whole house is asleep, except the dog…. Oh for God Sake it is a Sunday. The kitchen is buzzing with activity, the cutting board spilleth over, the masala all roasted just right, the rice is soaking …..a shy little one puts his palms to receive the parcel…. maybe the mother will come with him or his bigger sister or their Ajji ? Such thoughts slip in, slide out the kitchen is alive….. Musings continue.
The kitchen alive, the chimney is busy unabashed, unaware …. the older one peeps in, then the younger one…. the hubby saunters in…. none gets a taste. A snake-like line, happy jabbering, lots of laughter maybe… one can only guess…. the cooker whistles a jolt back to the kitchen.
The phone rings, very little time left, the hot food is packed in containers, a little bit of hesitation…. what if it is not edible? The volunteer calls again…. a rush and it’s all done……. a stranger walks in…. a stranger no more….. all in this game of love.. with trembling hands the parcel exchange hands, these tears of joy will see me through this month for sure!
Nothing to give……… Nothing at all…. Let’s Feed Bengaluru.
– Uma Udaykumar