Adding some spice

Tadka laga!!

Hmmm.. as JB (my once upon a pal in Switzerland) used to say, a majestic marriage has made Vid quite unimaginative. So, I took stock of my life today and realized that it needed a tadka! So, here is a little imaginative story... ;-)

What's a life without heartaches, at least it is quite boring for a budding writer. Heartaches give you immense material for creativity, trust me! When the tummy is comfortably full, all one can do is doze away! Well, to feel the pangs the tummy needs to be empty... a contended heart can write no poems...

Anyways, let me try to add some spice, for my dear readers. Yesterday evening I looked in the corner of my heart. I shuffled about to see if there remained the love that I had stashed away a loooong time ago. Hmm.. the telephone wire lay ripped apart...the connection is gone, the poet sadly realized. Ah! those were the days when the lover in me would behold the world in tears and promise that this love shall last me a life time. And when the spring has come, and I make an attempt to clean the kabad I find broken records! I am not a great listener of music, but there was a time when life seemed to be a beautiful song. Young and reckless, the heart would keep falling in and out of love. But now like a wine in cellar, my love is resting undisturbed, maturing day by day... Ah, Linus don't you feel lucky!! Hmm..

So, despite myself...despite the mellowed, and matured.... yet sensuous and subtle , I pick up a shred of what seems a broken heart and examine it. The love seems to have seeped away from the shattered piece. Should I let him know, I muse. Imagine calling your ex beau to tell him, that there is no connection anymore. Who would do it? Someone, who would dream of going bungee jumping, or a bored writer who has no other spice to stir up a delicious story! No, cooking up stories mind you!

As soon as I flipped open my 3 year old Moto razer, I realized I had not fed the number corresponding with that broken heart. Hmmm...

"hellooooooooo"

"hmmm...., tune mera number feed kar rakha hai?"

"kaun bol raha hai???"


ooops...wrong number!!

I hang up hurriedly and decide to take up culinary classes in stead of giving writing a shot. Mom calls me in the kitchen and asks tadka daal or plain daal..

Since I have a sore throat you know what happens to the tadka!