Chicken balls and spaghetti in tomato sauce for the soul

Sometimes, even leaving office at 7:45 in the evening can give you a burst of energy to cook a meal from scratch; grocery shopping included. Even, on a Monday.

I couldn't find minced mutton, hence, chicken had to do the trick. I had to pick up that and a couple of other ingredients which you wouldn't normally find in my home like bread crumbs and tomato purée. So I picked up the essentials. And as if God was also in a good mood, He made sure I got a good auto rickshaw driver who dropped me home on METER FARE! It's a big deal.

I got home by 8:15 pm, freshened up and told myself, 'Srishti, if you want to make this dinner, you're going to have to multitask.' In went the tomatoes into boiling water and off I went to make the meatballs.

This recipe was shared with me by a dear friend and colleague. 

Ingredients + Method + Commentary

1/4 kg minced meat

1 cup bread crumbs

Oregano

Salt

Pepper

1 egg

Garlic finely chopped 1 tbsp

1 cube of shredded cheese

Mix and make balls. Put them in fridge for 1/2 hour.

For the sauce -

Boil 2 tomatoes, peel and chop

+

2 chopped onions

Finely chopped garlic

Stir.

1 tetra pack of tomato puree

Salt

1/2 tspn of red chilli

Add the  boiled tomatoes. Cook for 1/2 hour to 45 mins. Close the lid the cook.

Take the chicken balls and dump them inside this. Simmer and cook for 30 mins more.

Shred cheese on top of cooked spaghetti and do not forget to sprinkle basil.

Hog. 

I always make elaborate plans of cooking only so that I can sip my wine stylishly while I do so, only to forget the wine every single time. 

This time the wine was consumed with dinner. 

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The Iced Tea Man

The condensed drop trickled down the glass jar as the afternoon sun threatened to move some more, letting the kids in the town school know it’s time to head back home and disrupt the man’s peaceful time. He did not have much time on his hands before this happened; at most an hour or so. After labouring in the shed the entire morning on the old dresser, he finally decided to call it a break with his iced tea and quiet on the porch. From where he was sitting, he could see two houses clearly. They were right in front of him, just across the lazy-kept lawn. He looked at the jar. The ice cubes clinked as he poured himself his first glass. Like a man dying to sip a decent whisky at the end of a hard day, he sipped the iced-tea and rested his head back. His view changed from the two houses to the branches and leaves of the huge tree which had been in front of his home for as long as he could remember. ‘What is this tree? Did it bear any fruit? In all the sixteen years I’ve been here, it hasn't done one god damned thing. Hmmm. Oh, look. A sparrow. Haven’t seen those around in a long time.’ He closed his eyes for a moment and opened them. The tree. He blinked again. The tree, again. He closed his eyes, again. Only this time, it was too late. And he never saw the tree again.

To sit back with a beautiful book and a pencil is to...

read it with a thirst; and neatly underline every important word, line, paragraph that I think can most definitely be put together some day and compiled into another book called ‘Everything You’ll Ever Need To Make Note Of And More’. It’s to stretch my feet and crack my toes. It’s to find that comfortable position from which I’d never move.

The Last Dream

I enjoy waking up in the middle of a dream and realizing I have more than enough time to go back to sleep and will my mind to continue that beautiful story. It’s the best way to start a morning; go back to sleep. But given a choice and the situation, how many dreams would I really like to watch till the end? Almost all dreams are worth it. And then there are few which make you sit up in bed and look at your feet so that you don’t fall asleep again.

Dreams peep into that place which we almost never talk about, even to ourselves sometimes. They widen the view from the keyhole or sometimes break the lock altogether. They make you talk about themselves to others over tea or texts the next morning. They hope they are not just listened to but heard. They are given meanings by a million people.

Dreams also occur in a series sometimes, like they think they are sequels of some sort. And they can do whatever the hell they want. They almost always show me what I want to see. They make you snore weirdly. I say you because I don’t snore. I don’t.

They make you hold your breath and pant. They slow down and rush. They float and fly.

I have not dreamt for a while now. My last one was told but not heard. It broke the lock alright but was meaningless. It was the end of a breathless series.

Beautiful spaces

are things we miss,

When everything rushes by.

To stay for a while,

At a place of choice,

Instead, we choose to fly.

To find these spaces,

While departing,

Sigh.

Just try this today,

Sit back,

And lie.