The block had hit hard.
Poised for the first word in days,
“Martyr,” her hand wrote.
Tag: postaday
Oh, This Is Pizza!
Pizza—that gourmet Italian food that the world goes crazy for.
I never enjoyed pizza.
That’s so because Pizza Hut and Dominos ruined pizza for me. And I realised this only a couple of weeks ago.
When it comes to food, I like mine with a lot of spice. I cherish the steam that the heat invokes in my tongue. I love it when my taste buds tingle and I have to curl my lips and inhale a whiff of air to cool down the heat. However, nothing of that sort happened when I tried pizza for the first time. Instead, a mass of ooey-gooey cheese burst into my mouth, thrusting through my teeth a mesh of coldness, milk that felt like jelly and tasted a bit sour. It was nothing to die for. And a couple of pieces later, I couldn’t get the rubbery, sticky sensation off my teeth.
Not to mention, the cheese sat on half cooked and flaky bread that tried so hard and failed to taste sour. It didn’t help that the bread was called fiery crust while it felt like a feathered crest.
And that’s why I hated pizza.
And then I went to a place called Cafe Xtasi in Pondicherry. The restaurant came with a high recommendation and a higher Zomato reputation. I didn’t feel too keen since it was famous for its wood-fired pizza and I—among myself—am famous for hating all things pizza. It didn’t mean much to me, because, well, it’s just bread and bland cheese. But I decided to give it a try anyway. At least to make a post on Zomato, my rational voice piped.
The first thing that admired me was the menu, not with variety but with creativity. I scrolled through a list of pasta dishes, when one, in particular, caught my eye: Bad Idea. It was the name of the pasta dish and below it read a small description, “Fresh garlic, garlic sauce, feta in white sauce.” Ha, bad idea indeed.
I wanted to try it. But a friend had already advised me against the pasta and told me to go for the pizzas, instead. They are better, he had said. And since it was my first time there, I took the expert’s advice.
The pizza menu boasted names like Chukini, Lambretta, and Harem. I had my eye on Iron Pie, but when our waiter told me Shekchilli would be spicier, I chose that one. “Chicken, capsicum, onion, garlic, and chilli,” the description read. Yum.
The pizza arrived in about 10 minutes taking me by surprise. All the Dominos outlets I’ve been to take at least 20 minutes. And it was steamy, too. It remained warm for about 5 to 10 minutes in that air-conditioned hall—that’s a big deal. However, something else about the pizza caught my hungry eye more than my timekeeping mind: The crust was crusty. It was less than half of the thickness of every other pizza I’d had before, and what’s more, it even had a mild burnt edge to it.
When I picked up a piece and bit into the crust, I bit into a crust and not just a ball of cooked flour. I felt the crunch in my teeth, while spicy sauce seeped into my tongue through the holes in between my teeth. The chicken was tender, sauce splendour, and the cheese just right. The crunch and munch blended, bombing my mouth with tangy, garlicky, and a bunch of pungent flavours.
And that’s when I fell in love with pizza.
The Ideal Devotee
A Long Walk to Realisation
I love to walk among dense trees, seeking, yet not knowing what I’m seeking. There’s something about unbound nature that makes you wonder while you wander. And I have the perfect friend who’s always willing to go an extra mile to catch a sight. Since our first walk in the park at Vandalur had been a great experience, I was eager for the next one.
When my friend suggested the Botanical Garden in Pondicherry, however, I was a bit skeptical. Our time in Pondicherry was limited to just over 24 hours, and the garden crept into the agenda only the previous night. According to Google Maps, we’d have to go out of our way to find our way to the garden. We’d had to walk a long walk before walking into the garden—just to walk some more.
My friend insisted, though. And since I owed her one for enduring my occasional assholery (I’m a pain, my roommates would attest), I obliged.
I don’t regret. For the most part.
When we stepped into the entrance of the garden, a large board welcomed us with an outline of what to expect in the garden. Trees, trees, and even a musical fountain. The garden spread across a massive area of land and, from where I stood, I saw patches of greenery punctuating patches of barren land.
It was a cool, cozy and empty. Well, almost.
Under the shade of what looked like a hundred-year-old tree, two women police officers opened up their lunches packets, chatting away as the leaves rustled in tune to the breeze. A few feet away were a young couple leaning on either side of yet another grand tree while a little further, their photographer friend crouched peering into the lens of his DSLR, demanding that the couple shift towards the light.
The ground was strewn with grass, and moss, and insects of all sizes. Branches the size of my arm loomed over us, forming arches and making a convincing case of becoming wedding hosts. Flowers looked down from their tree thrones above, their petals downward and their honey dripping earthward. Mid-day sunlight gleamed through the artwork that spiders had weaved all morning. Little creepers clung to their poles teaching us a thing or two about survival among the giants.
There was so much to see in the garden and yet so few to see them.
We stepped over the railway tracks of a toy train that would run around and within the depths of the garden. With no one to appreciate the mass of trees that amassed the garden, the train had no apparent reason to operate that day. And yet, from somewhere deep within came the ghost of an echo of the chuck chucking of the toy train. And with it, the excited screams of non-existent children.
I passed a couple of kids fiddling with smartphones.
Crunching the dry leaves on the pathway, I strode along. And just when I thought I had ended a glorious walk, something in a corner of the garden made me stop short. Remains of human presence littered the area, the plastic lunch packets and empty paper cups reminding me of the hollowness that humans contribute to nature.
We have one job, one duty. And to keep our nature natural we had to just keep away from their way. Yet somehow it’s become too hard not to interfere, not to meddle with the order of things. I thought I was hard to live with, but now I understood that people, in general, are hard to live with. We are a bunch of spoilt, selfish brats that take everything around us for granted.
I appreciate those who tolerate my assholery, but after that walk, I’ve grown to appreciate nature even more than before for tolerating an entire race of assholes.
As I came to that disgusting conclusion, I realised I had walked around the entire garden. There was nothing more left to see. And if there had been anything, I had no mood for it.
Aftermath of a Challenge
One morning a couple of weeks ago, I sat in front of an open document, fingers poised over my keyboard waiting for the words to flow.
They didn’t.
I was stuck. I didn’t know what to do. I sat there for about an hour before deciding to do something else. I browsed through The Daily Post looking for ideas when I found the section on blogging challenges.
It couldn’t hurt, I thought and dove in. The first challenge that interested me was the Incredible Blogger Marathon Challenge. Now that is one good title. It triggered my curiosity and piqued my ego to just the right level. I wanted to be that Incredible Blogger. And a posting marathon is a challenge I could take.
I took it. It was a ten-post challenge, but I could take up to 15 days to complete it. I challenged myself to publish a post a day and finish the challenge in ten days.
The next two weeks was one of the best spells I’ve had in my blogging experience. It wasn’t easy as eating pie. It was as complex as baking one myself. But it was great fun. I had to think in ways I hadn’t done before. And the weirdest thing is that I had to first explain to myself how I felt about certain topics, before giving words to my thoughts.
It warped my head, but it gave me something to write about every day. It kept me going, even if I didn’t want to.
And now, it feels wonderful when I look back. It forced me to explore a whole new area in writing and I’m glad I took the challenge.
Have you ever taken up a blogging challenge? How did you feel afterward?
The Chaos Within 