My Culinary Interest, intermittent as it has been, showed some sign of recovery today. It acts almost like tides guided by the gravitational pull to make something I have intense liking for. So today morning when I reluctantly got up from inside the blanket, my mind rummaged through yesterday's ideas, thoughts, conversations (with self and others). There it stumbled upon this mouth-watering idea that had hidden itself at some corner. 

The idea was to make pancakes. Oh, how much I love the idea of having pancakes and this time for a change I loved the idea of making them too.

So I searched on the internet for the simplest of all recipes and checked if I had all the ingredients right there in the kitchen. With luck on my side, I had no trouble finding all of what I required. I followed all the instructions to prepare the batter. Next came the most important step in cooking. I heated up the skillet on the gas stove. As it got heated, I put the batter on it. There came the first and the only panic stroke in entire "making pancake" experience. I had seen my Mom spreading the batter on the skillet before. That it seemed easy was a shattered myth. I tried spreading it over but it wouldn't. My instant reaction was to abandon  my project and run for help to my Mom. Somehow, I restrained. I carried on. And I am glad, I did carry on. The first pancake was less than a disaster but the rest that followed seemed to have a satisfactory effect on me. First time for pancakes was not as catastrophic as I could have imagined.

My CI story doesn't end here. In the evening, I had this yearning to make some soup. I again started my search for the simplest recipes for soups.( I have a penchant for simple things, Less complicated it is, more I like it) This recipe was impossibly simple. So again I made a debut in soup making. It was not at all bad. My parents liked it. Though they praise me and encourage me every time I put in some effort, I only take those compliments that I really feel I am worthy of. So when I tasted the soup I had made, I knew they certainly liked it. 

Well, with my fulfilling endeavors today, an unusually amusing and funny sentence got framed in my mind and I told myself "I feel I am so much successful."

The success story should not come to an end. I have some plans for coming Sunday. Let's see how does it turn up.

PS : While reading a book, I found something interesting.

"The person who made this cake has a soul." told the man to his wife who had baked a cake for him.

The wife says to herself, " not everyone can see the soul in a cake."

 

This leaves me wondering, Can I see the soul in a cake?

'Truth", she declares,
"is on my side."

"Truth,
 I cried, shouted , yelled
to be heard that
you are on mine."

They remain unfazed.
"How could you call it yours,
when everyone here
resonates same words as yours", they say.

The words float to reach her ears,
the humming around, she fears
echo the Truth.

"How could you lie to me?,"
she asks the unseen Truth.
"Who are you? Whose side are you on?

I seek you
in the warmth
of the winter sun.

I seek you
in the flowers
that, in the spring, bloom.

I seek you
in the moonlight
of that summer night.

I seek you
in the pearls
of those rainy days.

I seek everywhere
only to find you
Within.

So the other day, I feel like baking a cake. That feeling is quite spontaneous. I check out the recipe and fortunately all the ingredients are at home. Generally, I do not like cooking. I will only take it up in situations where I have no other option. So this is quite an unusual feeling. 

While I have baked cakes earlier, they have all been under my mom's supervision. This time, however, I do it alone. And how proud I feel. But hey! I only feel proud for the part where I baked it all by myself. The rest is not that bright a story. While the cake tastes alright, it has some excesses in terms of ingredients. Had I taken care, the result would have been amazing. I know now what not to do next time when I decide to bake this cream cake. Well, whatever it is, it seems my parents have this really cute thing of encouraging me every time. They know their daughter will succeed certainly one day. 

So, my sister knows that I have baked and she has asked for a cake when I go to her place. I have also thought of baking it for my friends. And while I am into this web of cake talks and chats, I get reminded of a very nice story that I have been told by a friend or maybe I have read it somewhere.

There is this lady who bakes a cake everyday and gives it away to random people and I am sure it makes their day wonderful. I cannot recall how I reacted to the story when I was listening to it but I am sure my reaction would have been something like " Oh wow! Why ain't I living in the same city as this lady does?"  

Well, when I come back from this story to my real world, I find myself smiling. And why is this smile on my face? I realize that I would like to do it too in the same way as this lady has been offering people known or unknown and in that moment some other realization dawns upon me. Making people happy in small little ways is what matters. So let's spread happiness all around!!!

That winter morning
cloaked in fog
reprises in front of my eyes.

A warm jacket
with a hood
partially covering your face,
you had adorned.

Uncertain steps
I had made
while moving forward
I stumbled upon a brick.
I fell on the road,

I had mistaken my step
as the dense fog
had enveloped us all.
An expression
as cold as the weather
your face wore.

I didn't know
who you were,
Neither do I know now
in all these years.
But as winter approaches,
your inscrutable face
resurfaces occasionally
for reasons unknown.