I catch myself humming songs my mother wrote for my father - songs that belong to a different lifetime and two people who are no longer in love with each other. I realize I am singing a particularly beautiful verse as I stand in front of the coffee-maker at work, staring at the thin stream of dark roast brew dripping steadily into my cup, and I stop. It seems like I have stolen someone else's love song and demeaned it while waiting for my morning cup of coffee.
In the afternoon, I hum and sing and sing and hum while creating a new recipe. I sing as I crush all the spices old-style - with mortar and pestle: black cardamom, a stick of cinnamon, whole dried red chilies, bay leaves, black peppercorns, coriander and cumin seeds. I sing as I grate a piece of ginger and 5 cloves of garlic. I sing while mincing green chilies into a small bowl of yogurt. I sing while copping cilantro and plucking mint from my small window-sill herb garden. And I don't stop because if I don't sing, I will forget the song forever. And that would be a shame.
Sometimes, it is indeed the little matters that matter. On days like today, an inexplicable happiness can be achieved from the simple act of recalling the lyrics of a long-forgotten favorite song - by sheer force of will and the resolve to not give up.
My parents don't have the best love story, but by god, they've immortalized it with poetry and music.
One day, I'd like to look back and find tangible reminders of love in my story, too.
Resolve: Must write more poetry.
 |
| The new dish I created |
Sometimes, it is indeed the little matters that matter. On days like today, an inexplicable happiness can be achieved from the simple act of recalling the lyrics of a long-forgotten favorite song - by sheer force of will and the resolve to not give up.
My parents don't have the best love story, but by god, they've immortalized it with poetry and music.
One day, I'd like to look back and find tangible reminders of love in my story, too.
Resolve: Must write more poetry.