It was seven in the morning. Mum was busy tidying up the house and running around to finish the morning chores. I can never understand the fuss, I like my mornings calm and chirpy (yeah with beautiful sparrows, pigeons and peacocks singing good morning to me).
Thoughts like cleaning up, arranging toys and getting every cloth (bed-sheets, bed-covers, table cloths, laundry) crease free, preparing breakfast, etc. are many light years away from my little carefree mind. I was busy soaking in the fresh morning breeze, listening to woof-woof* chase away the pigeons sitting on the ground. Just when I spotted something exciting.
Little wonders of the world excite me. Be it the irregular bits of paper that make me wonder what they resemble to cob-webs in the corners by the window (though they are a very rare occurring seeing to my mum’s craze for cleaning) or even the little feathers of sparrows, I find them all amusing enough to give out a loud squeal in joy.
But, this was something very different. Unlike my mum who goes by her sense of smell, I believe in my sense of touch and taste the most. I see mum doing so many experiments in the kitchen and while I watch her, she makes me taste
all most of her ingredients. This is how I have come to believe that tasting things is the way to go.
I love tasting things to remember and recognize flavors and to give them a memorable place in my mind. I decided to do just that with my new-found treasure.
It had an unusual appearance and I am quite confident I had seen it for the first time. I looked at it for a long minute and then decided to taste it. I had hardly placed it on my tongue when something tickled my throat and I gagged and got nauseous.
I panicked and so did mum on hearing me make uncomfortable sounds. She
flew raced to be by my side and checked my mouth. I knew something was wrong for she gave out a loud scream and my grandma came running. Before I could understand what they were doing a sudden urge to throw up gripped me and there came the exotic food I had hardly tasted.
My mum looked very worried and was busy checking my hands and my mouth for any remains of the item I had tried to eat. Just then I heard my grandpa exclaim that his grand-daughter (that’s me) was indeed an IPL fan for she had tried to eat (a) Cricket.
Note to mum: C’mon mum I too want to be a good cook like you, if you’ll worry so much for all I taste and eat how will I ever fulfill my dream?
*woof-woof = blog name of our pet dog
The song on my mind: Poocho na yaar kya hua ~ Zamane ko dikhana hai