Palak Mathri

Preparation of palak mathri made me realise these things-

1. Bunch of spinach is just like me, just like you, just like an individual, bundling many useful virtues green, protecting some useless goodness wilted, unable to leave few ugly vices weedy. Few are the people who can notice the raw you, fewer are the people who accept the unprocessed you and fewest are the people who put effort to turn you into better you. And in front of the rest world, you will try to present yourself as processed you, cleaned from imperfection, chopped with expectation, ground to crush your individuality, strained for being a bit more ‘fit for the world’ you.

2. When shapeless moisture meets with loose flour, the dough is made, tight. When unbound trust meets with scattered hope, the bond is made, tighter.

3. Rolling the dough balls makes me realise pain is less about the exhaustion of the body, more about that shit chewing your mind with the thought that I have expended this much energy. The body is not a cage to mind, but a meant to free the mind.

4. Cut shapes are like somethings which seem better in bits, not in a size big, which can be kept longer in pieces, not in whole. Adore little moments, store shredded memories. They feel better, last longer.

5. Those poured pieces in hot oil are like bathed emotions in the burning liquid of eyes which turns strength after being fried in adversities.

6. Tasting feels a lot like saying ok. Because good is an overconfident word and bad is a harsh word.

7. Adding spice makes me think why the same recipe tastes better than the hostel when cooked by mother. Maybe always food doesn’t taste according to spice, sometimes unadulterated love makes it yummier.

8. Packing feels a lot like filling effort with no expectation and sealing it with love with no expiry date.

9. Deciding the price after drawing the lines of profit and loss made me regret for not drawing a smile in an innocent face by not buying a chips packet for ten bucks from the kid at traffic who keeps pleading. If I bought that from him, I could have sold some inner poorness.

10. Inserting labels reminds me how I love to hang as an apostrophe after the names of people who are the world to me and feel special when I realise that so ordinary I am in this vast world. It feels good to become solely special for the few who are special to you and to become completely ordinary for others.


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