- The A.C. is nice and cool, good for my heat rashes.
- How green is the golfer's turf on that LG Flatscreen! Is it a shade different from that of the FIFA grounds?
- Stana Katic has started shooting for Castle - Season 3. :)
- Am I boring?
- Can I ever beat the sound barrier?
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Crumbs of melting Time
Was it Jorge Luis Borges who said Art cannot be platonic? You know what? Nor can food. I swear by Nigella.
The soft, pulpy tomatoes slide off the prongs of the small, white, plastic fork as the instrumental in the background morphs from "Lady in Red" into "Take My Breath Away". Chicken Quiche is my way of telling myself that the sun will rise again. Not just tomorrow. Today, as well. Right now, if I want it to! Again and again.
I'm in Eatopia. Food Court and more.
Ah, bliss. I could read Alice in Wonderland, leather-bound and unabridged. I could swing and sway the musical totem pole at the entrance of the India Habitat Centre and hope the tinkling chimes resonate with my prayers. I could take my digicam and go on a tour of the city once again.
The crumbs of the quiche disappeared from my plate, one by one.
The lady in the orange and green patiala blew my concentration.. JUST then. An ID card hung from her neck. And suddenly, I got stuck in the Present. I don't like her nosepin. I don't like her floaters. I don't like her peeking into the veg. burger and I don't like her resting her elbows on the white marble table in the restaurant.
The little pouch of mustard is untouched on my tray. The Heinz sachet of ketchup squirted a slanting jet all over. My fingernails taste funny when I lick the red drops right off them. And just when I thought I had had enough of the molten chicken and the buttery mush inside it, I spilled my last swig of hot coffee all over my T shirt.
My body feels like the city of Harappa. But do I really want to boast of the sewage? Why isn't there a loo around when you really want one?
Things I want to think about at this point to distract myself:
See how the lack of good food creates a bottomless pit, a vacuum that random thoughts rush in to occupy? Go slow, foodies, go slow.