Parents going out of town meant suspension of luxury room services for me. Each time this happens most of the surprises come to me as a rude shock. The problem is not just about food, which seems to be the least problem on a short term basis; going by the index of least tasteless food one can manage something in the cafeteria at my work place.
The problem starts when the cable TV at home does not seem to work when I return in the evening, courtesy the neighbor whose building is under construction perpetually. Cable operator’s mobile phone number now reaches some bar owner’s phone and I have to listen to him in
French before I understand the problem.
Yoghurt (without which I cannot exist in this universe apart from oxygen of course) – is not just as easy to prepare. One needs to perfect the art of mixing the right amount of curd in the milk and based on the weather the amount of time to be exposed outside the refrigerator. I dabbled with the preparation only to end up with yoghurt which appeared like a heterogeneous mixture of some thick solid particles in water.
Ingredients for cooking could not be estimated or forecast. Had to run to the nearby
kirana stores several times for curry leaves to onions. There again the price of beans was 10 rupees for a quarter kilo; the newspaper had a column on the price shoot-up the same day lest I would have engaged in a verbal duel (very limited grade of course) with the shop keeper.
Just as I had begun to appreciate managing the household, my parents returned. Within 10 minutes the duo found that plants in the balcony looked like they were planted in the middle of Thar Desert. The dust-bin had all that was trashed since a week. Mails were lying under the front carpet. Ants and cockroaches had taken over the reigns at home with the absence of the daily dose of
lakshman rekha.
I need a crash course in home making? Or was this one?