Skip to main content

My last Maggi


My evening began on a sad note: I was hungry and wanted to eat Maggi. I then searched high and low for that elusive pack, which was the last one in our pantry, and probably in our town. Finally, I found it sitting snugly in the fridge, looking forlorn and lonely.
I took it up and reluctantly poured its contents into boiling water, for my hunger had got the better of me. Then I set up the empty packet on the kitchen slab as a memento of a lost Maggian era.

The cooked noodles was savoured slowly and reverentially, no one in the family willing to end it first. Now it has the place of a relic in all hearts, reminding us of the times when the snack made our evenings tastier and helped our mothers fill the bellies of their ever-hungry kids. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Caterpillar or butterfly?

'Caught in a strange land in a net with other butterflies, I'm a caterpillar yet undecided to remain a caterpillar and perish or turn into a beautiful butterfly and live a life full of joy.' Readers don't laugh. But I came up with this one night recently when I was travelling in a train. I tossed and turned, not being able to sleep, upset over unexplainable things and frustrated over events not in my control. Then it occurred to me that our life and its usefulness depends on our decisions -- whether to remain a crawling caterpillar whose existence otherwise is either ignored by all and sundry or who is cursed for just being there and thrown out with a stick, or to develop wings of life and metamorphose into a beautiful butterfly whom everybody adores for its beauty and colour, for its flitting liveliness, for its service to the flower's pollination... I thought that I should be a butterfly, of service to others, but then again I thought, anyway, who really cares? 

A listener

I have always been a listener. And we can listen only when we are silent. Since childhood, silence was my way of life. It is the only way one can understand the psyche of others.  I also listened to myself. It encouraged me to think. And when I began thinking, this world began to reveal itself. And when I started understanding people, I also realised the only way forward is to again remain silent. Silence in either way keeps me calm, peaceful. I feel like a detached onlooker. 

Two separate questions

Guess I am out of touch with everything right now, so no blog entry for many days. From many days, a question is bothering me. I haven't found a satisfactory answer yet. So I'll write it down here. Maybe anybody who reads this may know the answer. "Just because we are journalists, writers, opinion creators and thinkers, do we have the right to judge others? Either personally or professionally?" I think we don't have the right to judge a person, even if we are right. But as writers, we would have to judge others whether we like it or not. And it's very difficult forcing people to think, but that's what we are doing or pretending to be doing right? Another question: "How come life is so simple if you just let it live by itself without bothering much and so complicated if you try to manipulate it or even understand it?" Blessed are the ignorant. We who can understand everything, try not to let anything go by without understanding and thus miss the b...