No, you can’t have that’, I said snatching the packet from the son’s hand.
But I want it’, said he.
NO, I said
‘Who said I have one kid’, mumbled the better half who proceeded to go down on his knees and explain to the brat why one more Super Lego was not allowed to him.
I never remember the Man ever going on his knees for me ever but that’s another story. But then He never proposed to me.
The brat agreed. The man gave me a ‘look’
I shrugged and carried on with my shopping.
A lady passed by, her trolley piled up high. I just stared at her. The Man nudged me and I came back, ‘Must be her monthly provision’, I said.
‘Must be her weekly,’ he remarked, ‘that’s dependence on processed foods’, He said.
I nodded and carried on. My mind conjured up images of how free I would be if I just opened up cans. How much time I would have to sit on my laptop and publish posts after posts…..
‘Why are you smiling like that’, the man said.
‘From today we too will live the open can way’, I said and began popping cans into my cart.
I was busy typing when my friend Trisha popped in. ‘What are you doing’, she drawled.
‘Oh writing’, I said happily.
‘I am hungry, what do you have …..’, she began
‘Would you like some pizza, I will just defrost some’……
‘Pizza? You didn’t make any breakfast’, she said.
The hubby had some baked beans in tomato sauce, the son had some toast, we could have some pizza’, I said
She made a face, ‘I was hoping for some idlis in hot sambar or some rice noodles….’
‘I have a life too…who has tome to cook’, I said
‘oh yes ….you have to type out posts which nobody reads any ways.’, she said rolling her eyes.
‘Excuse me’, I screamed,’ You can look at my stats….it is booming’, I said.
‘Alright. I am going to have some breakfast at Sangeetha’s. Care to come?’, she asked
Visions of Sangeetha’s mini tiffin loomed in front of my eyes, those mini idlis and masala dosa, the sheera , the sambar…….
‘Are you’, she asked loudly.
My pride, ah my foolish pride…’No’, I said.
I felt hungry and so I took out a pizza. I defrosted it in the microwave but it felt lumpy. Processed refined flour is no competition to hot sambar is it? As I stuffed it inside my mouth I felt morose.
I checked my stats. It was not much of a change. In five days I had posted five posts and the comments received were…five….in total.
Visions of Sangeetha’s mini tiffin still loomed in front of my eyes.
It was almost two pm when the brat and the hubby arrived. The brat sniffed and said, ‘Hmmmm something nice…..what ma, what have you cooked’.
‘methi malai mattar and some paratha’, the MAN replied. I tell you he must have been a police dog in his previous life.
‘Yay’, the boy yelled, ‘finally some good food after eating out of cans for a week’.
‘just five days’, I corrected.
‘Come lets tuck in’, the man said, ‘before another season of ‘opening the can’ begins’, he said.
And we sat down to eat.
Well I am a writer but we need food to eat, don’t we. And for us at least we need proper cooked food, no can for us, none at all.