It is a beautiful day in Bangalore after a long, long time. It rained yesterday night, and today is cloudy, yet crisp and bright, as I have seen the days here can be.
For a change, I cooked lunch in my kitchen with the balcony door open, without sweat dripping off me, gazing out the lovely day. I had the music of birdsong with me as I cooked.
I got lost in the carrot-onion sambar for a bit, and when I came to, it was drizzling. There is something almost magical about cooking a meal in your kitchen when it is drizzling outside, I find. People in the streets, too, were smiling, finally happy after the hot, dusty days.
I went downstairs to pick some curry leaves for the sambar, from the small communal plant that we have in our apartment.
The drizzling had stopped by the time the sambar was done, and preparations for cauliflower curry began. The day was still lovely, though.
I responded to some mails and read a couple of blogs while the curry was cooking, only to realise, after 15 minutes, that I had left the flame on high. I rushed to the kitchen and rescued the curry – thankfully, it was still at the stage where it could be rescued. The part that had got burnt infused a kind of smoky flavour to the rest of the curry. Quick changes to the recipe were made, and some ingredients were added to make it taste like a cauliflower grill masala. It tastes good now, actually.
My hands smell of curry leaves and onion, and my house smells of clean air, sambar, and no sweat. I love that.
Was it the magic of the day that rescued the curry? I like to think that yes, it is indeed the type of day that rescues curries from getting totally lost.
I can hear a koel in some distant tree, cooing away to glory. I haven’t heard one in ages. Maybe, like me, it is singing about the glorious day today.