Message In A Bottle

Her memories still haunt me sometime. It has been half a decade since I last told her that I loved her, and it has been less than a year since she told me to die a painful death. Its strange how the heart works – it seeks out the unobtainable and covets it. I sometimes lie awake at night thinking about her face, her smile, her lovely hair, her scent, her eyes – and feel this incredible amount of pain coursing through every sinew, blaming myself for what happened and wondering what might have happened if things had turned out differently. I reach out to touch her lips and clutch at thin air.

I have caught myself wondering at times, whether she were the pinnacle of my existence. Whether everything I’ve done since she left, everything I’ve achieved or failed to achieve, all the adolations and the accusations that came after her, was just an insignificant grain of sand on a beach. I have caught myself at times, going through allΒ those mails and letters we wrote to each other back then, expressing our undying, everlasting, unconditional love for each other. Maybe I was too young to realize what love really was. Or maybe I was too stupid to believe in its idealism.

I don’t know where she is, I don’t know what she is doing right now. I don’t know if she is married, has kids, is working somewhere or stydying something. I don’t have her email ID. I definitely don’t have her phone number. She doesn’t follow me on Facebook, Myspace or Twitter. And I don’t have her on any of my IMs. If it weren’t for the old email and letters that I have saved, its as if she does not exist. As if she had not existed in the first place. Someone as pure and as beautiful as her must have been ethereal, a figment of my imagination.

Just in case, hoping against hope, that she is out there somewhere, and hoping that she can read this, then all I want to say toΒ her is that I do understand what love really is. This is probably my message in a bottle for her. I am keeping my fingers crossed and I hope that it gets picked up. I remember those days quite clearly. I remember those days so clearly that I wish things were that simple again. I wish life had not gotten in our way. I wish life would have remained so…Β completely musical.

The Foodie Meme!

The word “food” evokes in me a primal instinct to mark my territory on the table, crouch in a corner with my plate of food and growl at anyone who comes near. I devour my food quickly lest someone steals it from me and smack my lips and return to my normal state of mind. I black out when eating, and sometimes, don’t remember what happened. I once came out of such a black out with the thumb of my left hand in my mouth, my white shirt covered in chocolate sauce and my hair smelling of onions. It remains a mystery till today! πŸ˜€

Shefaly tagged me with this very interesting food meme, and finally, I get to show off my love for all things edible. I would best describe my culinary afflictions as: “I am, therefore I eat!” πŸ˜€

Now, lets get down to the meme, shall we!

1. What’s your favorite table?

I wouldn’t want to go over the edge and make a big clichΓ© of myself by saying “Any table with food on it!” or something on similar, drab lines. Actually, my favorite table happens to be in the corner of a cafe called Barista, on MG Road in Bangalore. It was at this table that I was sitting when I realized that my life was going in no particular direction (but down) and that I had to do something about it. So, I ordered a cold chocolate, went home and got a haircut.

2. What would you have for your last supper?

I am going to die on November 4th, 2078 at 3.49 in the evening, while walking down the road after my routine sessions in the local laughter club, where I will perform for free, just to get rid of the boredom. My heart will have weakened enough for me to say my last goodbyes that day in the club, and that afternoon, my last meal will comprise of two chicken sizzlers on BBQ sauce and a portion of potatoes. I will drink half a glass of wine and choke on the other half, and finally, realize that its time to walk out of the club one last time…

3. What’s your poison?

Keeps changing with my mood and the season, and right now, it has to be roadside Dahi Puri with extra sweet on it. For more information on Dahi Puri, take a deep breath, smack your lips in anticipation and please click here. πŸ™‚

4. Name your three desert island ingredients.

Imagination, Perseverance and the ability to eat anything remotely edible! (PS: Cast Away was supposed to feature me, but they chose some guy who was a lot thinner than me and a disgrace to foodies all over!)

5. What would you put in Room 101?

Leftovers! πŸ˜€

6. Which book gets you cooking?

No book can get me to cook! God forbid, if I cook, I shall be responsible for mass hysteria and will be arrested for intentional food poisoning! πŸ™‚

7. What’s your dream dinner party line up?

Me..! πŸ˜€

Ok, I was kidding… Dream dinner party would consist of… um… uh… let’s see… no, I think it would still be me!

8. What was your childhood teatime treat?

Tomato juice, followed by salted biscuits and half a potato bun! Sometimes, when I’m feeling a bit nostalgic, I still follow this ritual. πŸ™‚

9. What was your most memorable meal?

December 2008, New York City, Lexington Avenue, Shravana Bhavan – That meal was perhaps the best because the whole day had been spent walking around the city and my feet were aching so badly and my insignificant breakfast had long been digested! πŸ˜€

10. What was your biggest food disaster?

My roomies and I once decided to cook a South Indian delicacy called Bisi Bele Bath. Its a concoction of rice, dal and lots of spices. We called everyone over and were so proud of ourselves, when we realized that we had forgotten to add the dal…

We made up a story that we got the recipe from MySpace, and that the dish was called Ranatunga! πŸ˜€

Some people actually bought the story and liked the dish. Never been near the kitchen since!

11. What’s the worst meal you’ve ever had?

My very own insipid version of chicken soup! πŸ˜€

12. Your food hero/food villian?

The food in my hand is the damsel in distress. She cries out for help and begs for mercy from the huge villain, who wants to eat her alive. The hero is no where to be seen. The villain lifts the helpless damsel and brings her close to his mouth. She can smell the foul breath and see the remains of her brothers and sisters sticking to the villain’s teeth. “Hero! Where are you?” she screams. Her screams are in vain. The villain devours her.

13. Nigella or Delia?

I don’t know what either mean and as long as they’re not some exotic, tasty food items, I don’t really care! πŸ˜€

14. Vegetarians: genius or madness?

Paranoid and morally confused! Plants have life too, you freaks! πŸ˜€

15. Fast food or fresh food?

Edible food!! πŸ˜€

16. Who would you most like to cook for?

I can’t think of anyone who has a death wish! πŸ˜€

17. What would you cook to impress a date?

Hmmm…

18. Make a wish.

I wish every living being in this world can taste Tiramisu before he/she/it expires.

19. I tag…

Namrata, who would be doing her first tag with this one! I wish her all the best! πŸ˜€

Fruity, who seems to be bored enough and senile enough to be tagged! πŸ˜€

Suda, who seems to have gotten all techie all of a sudden! πŸ˜€

Meghana, who would be doing this as her first tag on wordpress! πŸ˜€

Rekha, who is, like me, from South India and her answers would give me a clue to my sanity! πŸ˜€