I admire the patienceof those who take time to focus their cameras to click , when presented with superb breakfasts/lunches on a lazy winter Sunday morning. Particularly amidst the fragrance of butter, ginger, garlic, coriander and roasted flour.
More so when it is plated like this .
My friend Deepak Amembal, is one such person, and many of his breakfasts have adorned Facebook, Instagram and other places. He just posted this today. I think the breakfast/lunch tastes extra special once you have clicked it. If the Paratha could smile , it would.
I just wondered what the potatoes might be thinking....
If you are a potato,
that is.
Sunday.
Not a day to be cut up
and fall to pieces.
But a day
to simply dissolve into oneself,
and hold oneself together
as the battered chiiles,
scraped gingers ,
and crushed garlics invade,
amidst inroads by
salts, sugars and cumins.
An unusual holding together
watched by a
dowager dough-in-wheat,
and she rushes to
encompass it in parts,
carefully patting
and covering
to face
the impending onslaughts
of a rolling pin.
A languid light stretching
on a cool surface,
and bit of turning around,
before
taking a leap of faith
on to a hot griddle.
She blooms,
sometimes pink and gold
with a few beauty spots,
and fate rushes in
thinking they are hot,
and sprinkles them
with blobs of butter,
to cool her.
A well deserved rest
on a cool plate,
and she shyly folds herself
as she watches
the dahi and chutney guys
come rushing by.
Dahi, chutney and potatoes
they go way back.
Sometimes ,
they have no patience
and simply dash into each other
in katoris..
But if it is a Sunday,
they arrive in style,
wrapped in a royal paratha,
with perhaps
Lady Ghee-in-waiting,
and they simply preen and fold
as someone takes a close up
on his camera,
watched by
some impatient
chutney and dahi chaps....
Yes,
some days are special.
If you are a potato,
that is.
You get photographed and facebooked
before going
to meet your Maker.
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