Skip to main content

Biscuits

Thought of pampering my taste buds tonight and bought 3 items, including a packet of biscuits. The kirana shop has a large assortment and one is really spoilt for choice. After a hard time trying to decide on my pick, I chanced upon a not-so-common type.

The last time I had come across this type must have been years ago, at my maternal grandparents’ place in Kolkata during a typical summer vacation. I loved this place because of one simple reason: it was the only escape we had from studies and the restive environs of Jamshedpur.

I particularly remember the relatively large kitchen, it was like a museum with a guilt-free pass to being raided. Raid I did, especially during the afternoons when most unsuspecting souls would be snoring away to glory. The very thought of joining the slumber gang when a whole world of confectionary delight was awaiting my prowl seemed like blasphemy to me. I remained loyal to my heart.

Biscuits were a challenge though. There were too many jars on the shelves, all of the same dimensions, all opaque. This unintended obstacle made the hunt all the more interesting. Once the biscuit jar was discovered, I treated myself without any restraint whatsoever to my reward.

I relived some of the old pleasures tonight, though much of the fun was missing.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The year that was

I'm wearing a rather striking shirt, one that makes me feel like a clown fooling around in a graveyard. Roving eyes latch on to me and make me too conscious of myself. Checkered in red, grey, black and maroon, I've excused myself into donning it and looking silly for two reasons. It's Friday and…more importantly, the last working day of the year. Tailored half-a-year back, I never had the courage to wear it, not until today. It's that time of the year when it's time to reflect on the events that transpired. Last year ended on the worst possible note. Dad had expired and I was numb with shock. The repercussions rippled halfway thought this year. Things were so abysmal initially that I had lost the will to live. Acrid in everything I did, I was immensely angered by time phlegmatically flowing through its cadence. It was as if Dad meant nothing to anybody. What right did people have to live the way they always had when Dad was no more? Why was much of the world still ...

The sting operation

There was a guy in school named Subroto Giri, who, we all agreed, was the world's most accident prone person. All the world's ill luck would strike him first before affecting others. We sympathized with him, though we couldn't help occasionally taking a dig at the poor guy. I guess Murphy's law of averages has finally caught up with me. It's now my turn to be the butt of the jokes of my acquaintances. I went to HDFC Bank to sort 2 issues. One was sorted, the other had to wait. It was during my trudge back to my office that I made the mistake of putting my left hand into a hip pocket. Unknown to me, a bee had conveniently lodged itself there. No sooner had I made the intrusion than the bee stung me! My thumb, to be more precise. It felt like my thumb had been amputated. I did the obvious and withdrew my hand with a jerk, not knowing what had hit me. Getting a semblance of what had just happened, I realized to my consternation that the sucker could still be 'in...