017. A writer's block - a quick one

Kingdom of Bahrain

February 14, 2010

"What's happening?   I missed many Saturdays now.  Why can't I post a blog as per original schedule?  Am I losing credibility?.  Writer's block?"

These questions have been haunting me for some days.

"I knew that!  I knew that much before itself ", to make matters worse, my wife added. 

How did she answer my mind's question?

"What?", I sought clarification, or pretended seeking clarification.

"I heard you as you were talking aloud!!",   she answered, smiled and went to the kitchen.

True or False?  Partially true. 

Block.
Blocks.
Blocks everywhere.

"Whats there for dinner tonight?", I increased my decibel for maximum reach.

"Noodles", I liked the answer, but being in bad mood, I didn't like the answer at that point in time!

"I don't want that.  Make Tomato Rasam - I will have it with rice.", I defended.

"There is no tomato, so cannot make Rasam today" , my wife answered from kitchen while cutting open the noodles packet.

My wish to have a hot Tomato Rasam stood blocked.

"Why cant I have noodles tonight and have rice plus tomato rasam tomorrow?"  I thought.

"No, I must have tomato rasam today itself", my ego replied.

Without uttering a word, I changed my dress, took my car key, banged the door and set off.

Deliberately, I did not take my mobile as I knew that phone calls from home would follow me, whenever I go to the market, adding the list of items to be purchased.

The car started.
Just a kilometre passed.
Road block - due to some accident.
The parties involved in the accident and the vehicles behind were awaiting the police to clear off the road.
No way, I could turn back, because it was a one way.  And, there were many cars behind too.

Honking.
Irritating honking.

10 minutes.
15 minutes.
30 minutes.
My frustration began transforming to anger.

I switched on FM Radio. 
A programme on psychology was being aired.  The topic, believe it or not, was on "Short Temper - how to control it"

I tried to control my anger and listened to the programme.

Another 10 minutes, the traffic block was "unblocked".

Felt hungry.
Noodles would have been better.

Decided to come back home.
Parked the car.
Got out of the car.

"Hey, how can you be a loser?", my ego questioned me.

"Yes, you are right.  I must fight.  If there is a will, there is a way."   I locked the car and started walking to a cold store nearby.

"1 kg. tomato please?",  I asked the  shopkeeper.

"Sorry, Sir, tomato khallaas (finished)".  The shopkeeper continued with another customer, who came to buy cigarretes.

The shopkeeper also was a blockade, indirectly.

Walked for another 5 minutes to the vegetable shop.  Unusually, the shop was busy. In another five minutes or so, the shopkeeper attended to my request.

Selected some relatively good tomatoes, paid cash and stepped out of the vegetable shop.

"Hello, Sirji, where are you nowadays?  Not to be seen, busy? "  a former colleague of mine called me from behind.

Talking has been one of my favourites, so I forgot my hunger and started talking, or rather, gossipping.  Gossipped about old organization, talked good and bad things. 

So, it was a good conversation!
Felt happy!
Felt very happy!!

Rushed back home. 
My speed must have increased in proportion to my hunger.

My son opened the door with his left hand as his right hand was carrying his noodles'  plate.
Not to specifically mention, the yummy smell of the noodles with some added spices caught my nose.

Did I feel greed or more hungry?

"Where is your mother?"

"In the kitchen"

I handed over the tomato pack to my wife and asked her to make a Tomato Rasam.

"No coriander leaves!", she told.

"What cant you tell all these at one shot? You are sometimes..... ", I bursted out.

"I dont know magic or any other trick to know that you were going to the market.  I tried calling you and your mobile phone was ringing right here.".   Her points were also valid.

"OK OK, make tomato rasam without coriander leaves, though its not tasty to me.  Dont tell me that there is no salt here",  I told her and came to the TV room.

In five minutes, my wife came out to the TV room, from the kitchen laughing loudly.

"Whats so funny here?", I wanted to ask, but I kept cool.

"Gas finished", she replied.

"Who's?", 

"Cooking Gas!!"

After some typical arguments on who, what, when, how and why, I ended up sharing the noodles with my wife - half empty, half full.

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY !!!


Renjith P Sarada

(C) All rights reserved.  Renjith P Sarada 2010