Categories
thoughts

How I Go About


The frequent calls 
those at the door
and those in phone
take my breath pot.

With the ladle in one hand
 I rush to the door to see
 find one who has come 
looking for someone

who bears my name.
 I tell him to look elsewhere,
return to my kitchen
 my phone rings.

Picking up the mobile
my fingers soaked  
in flour, I answer
Lo! it is a wrong call.

Being half way 
through  cooking
 I forget what I have 
added, once again 

into the process
salt, masala, and tamarind
I hasten to complete
as it is past lunch time.

While consuming find 
they are perfect. none 
of the diners complain,
with a pat on my back.

I   go to my bed contented.
sleep engulfs, no sooner
the ringing starts 
I am up once again. 

By meenas17

A lover of classical Carnatic music.
An avid reader, passionate writer, into stocks and investments for livelihood

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.