Tuning in

You know one of those days when the alarm goes off and you get up but continue to sit with your eyes closed, feet half in and half out of the house slippers? Yes, today is that day for me, Mi. As I opened my eyes and dragged myself to the bathroom, I thought, hey, at least I have the tiffin box planned and what’s more, one of the favorite combos. That thought lighting up my head, I brushed my teeth vigorously, eyes closed as usual, humming a song in my head, enjoying the tangy taste of the tooth paste. When the ice cold water hit my face, I laughed with joy at the way it pricked my skin. I finally opened my eyes, looked into the mirror and said hello! Winked. Told her she’s going to have a great day.

I toddled off the the kitchen, face still wet and switched on the light. In the time it came on, blinked and steadied itself, I had said a warm hello to the almighty. I stepped into the kitchen, anticipating the aroma of fresh coffee in a few minutes. So of course I was too tired to clear the sink last night and resigned myself to scrubbing the things I needed after putting a pan of water to boil. Wheres the filter? Oh, still full of yesterday’s grounds. Oh well, emptied that into the bin, wishing as usual that I had a garden where I could let it do its magic. Washed it, dried it and spooned fresh coffee into it as I waited for the water to bubble to a boil. Cut the milk packet with the blunt scissors, secretly wondering when it would simply fall apart. The scissors, not the milk. Rejoicing in one more successful… er.. cut, I set the milk on the stove.

The boiling water sang to me as I washed the bhindi before slicing it. I switched off the stove under the water and poured it into the filter, listening to the musical shhhhhh as the coffee grounds eagerly absorbed it.

Oh yeah. Smiling, I started cutting the bhindi and was done by the time the milk came to a boil. Caught it just in time before it rose and spilled over and congratulated myself.

After pouring milk into a cup for the altar, mixing Horlicks for Vidur and coffee for me, I went to light the lamp and have the divine chat. My mind wandered with my eyes across the shelves, thinking that it was time to take stock and rearrange things. Sigh. We also need that mild dhoop. Maybe this evening when I go out.

Saying au ‘voir to my divine friends, I got crackin’ on makin’ the bhindi subzi and while it cooked, decided to knead the dough. Found that the flour dubba was empty and refilled it. There’s a new kid in town – a slow sugar release variant of the multigrain atta from ashirvaad. I kneaded the dough exactly the way you would have loved it.

Realized I had let my coffee go lukewarm and gulped half of it down. Superb coffee, I thought and stopped myself at the half-mark. Sury was up and since I was making his coffee, decided to notch up my own. I did. Yes, it was good.

I sliced apple for one of the three lunch boxes and checked the bhindi which was nicely done. Now I got to makin’ the rotis. Realized the milk was on the stove on a low flame and peacefully started rolling out the dough when I heard a freakish rushing sound – and before I could register it, the milk had boiled over. Ah, very nice.

Vidur was up and getting ready for the gym. I quickly cleaned up, made the rotis, packed the lunch boxes and got my shoes on to go with him.

Finally we made it to the gym at 9.15. I know, right? Sigh. But we had a good workout. Got back home, urged Vidur to have his breakfast first and cool down before running off to shower and miraculously, he agreed. A few minutes later, the phone started ringing. Friends.

He quickly finished breakfast, showered, dressed and was out again to go meet them.

I got on with my stuff after making a strong cuppa coffee.

It is a rainy day. I am a little disoriented, not sure why. Trying to settle down, quieten down. Keeping myself busy with work, planning new projects.

I suppose I am fretting just a wee little bit about the days ticking away until Vidur has to return to college. Funny how, even though we know what’s inevitable, we can’t really control how we feel. That’s okay, I think. It is just that some days, when we receive sad news, everything seems to get colored by it.

Surely this too shall pass… but until it does, it hurts… until it settles down into a dull ache.

Watch over me, Mi. Please.

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