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Anchal stood in her apartment balcony with a glass of wine in her hand, unwinding after the hassles of a long tiring day; she took another sip as she gazed across the beautiful Kochi nightscape. The concrete jungle, the speeding cars, the lights flashing in different colors all seemed to slow down as time passed by and she finished her glass of wine. With a content smile, she got back inside and set the empty glass over the kitchen island. The unsettling loud sound that her washing machine made killed her buzz, it’s in that moment she realized her night wasn’t over yet, what lies ahead was the even more tedious task of cooking and cleaning. Don’t get me wrong, Anchal didn’t hate cooking, in fact she loved it, it was more like therapy to her, it helped her think clearer, elevated her senses and always brought a smile to her face.
Anchal took a deep breath, picked up her phone, made a playlist of her favorites by Frank Sinatra and set things in motion as the music started to play on a volume loud enough to cover the wailing of that messed up washing machine. She got back into her zone as the music and the beats picked pace; she poured yet another glass of wine; the first sip and her foot started tapping, the second sip and her hips started grooving, the third and oh my! she was a sight to the eyes. She started off with the veggies, tossing and juggling the onions as Sinatra insistently sang, asking her to come fly with him, she winked back and blew a kiss back at him, as she pranced around to get her knife, her hand trembled slightly as she tried to balance the knife on her fingertip. The onions were the first to succumb to her sharp knife, followed by those bright Ooty carrots, between these tasks she goofily moonwalked to get the stewpot and placed it over the stove and turned it on to a high flame, then proceeding to drizzle some oil into the now hot pot. Into the pot slid the chopped onions and carrots, unaware of the hot sauna that awaited them, Anchal bid them adieu as she placed the lid back on the pot. As the onion and carrots sweated in the pot, awaiting their delicious end, Anchal moved on to get her salad ready, as she prepped the lettuce, cherry tomatoes and zucchini, tossing them around in the salad bowl with some rock salt and a drizzle of olive oil, proudly tasting the super delicious low-cal veggie orgy she had just created. Just then something went wrong and Sinatra stopped singing, as she went for her phone, the phone started ringing, it was her Mom. Anchal looked at the clock, it was past 9 PM, she knew a call at this time definitely was something more than just a daily call. She sighed wondering what she did wrong today and only after chugging down another glass of wine to help calm her nerves, she answered the call.
Anchal: Hi Maa….How are…
Before she could even complete, her mother started off complaining.
Mom: What’s all that noise? Are you still out at this time?
Cursing herself for answering the call, Anchal tries to pacify her mom.
Anchal: No Maa, I’m home. The noise, it’s the Washing Machine, there’s something wrong with it. I need to get it fixed.
Mom: Why do you need to wash clothes at this time. Why create such a ruckus and nuisance for your neighbors.
Anchal: Maa, please stop. No one actually cares what people do in their houses, I needed to have my sheets washed and I didn’t want to wait till tomorrow.
Mom: I...
Anchal took a deep breath, picked up her phone, made a playlist of her favorites by Frank Sinatra and set things in motion as the music started to play on a volume loud enough to cover the wailing of that messed up washing machine. She got back into her zone as the music and the beats picked pace; she poured yet another glass of wine; the first sip and her foot started tapping, the second sip and her hips started grooving, the third and oh my! she was a sight to the eyes. She started off with the veggies, tossing and juggling the onions as Sinatra insistently sang, asking her to come fly with him, she winked back and blew a kiss back at him, as she pranced around to get her knife, her hand trembled slightly as she tried to balance the knife on her fingertip. The onions were the first to succumb to her sharp knife, followed by those bright Ooty carrots, between these tasks she goofily moonwalked to get the stewpot and placed it over the stove and turned it on to a high flame, then proceeding to drizzle some oil into the now hot pot. Into the pot slid the chopped onions and carrots, unaware of the hot sauna that awaited them, Anchal bid them adieu as she placed the lid back on the pot. As the onion and carrots sweated in the pot, awaiting their delicious end, Anchal moved on to get her salad ready, as she prepped the lettuce, cherry tomatoes and zucchini, tossing them around in the salad bowl with some rock salt and a drizzle of olive oil, proudly tasting the super delicious low-cal veggie orgy she had just created. Just then something went wrong and Sinatra stopped singing, as she went for her phone, the phone started ringing, it was her Mom. Anchal looked at the clock, it was past 9 PM, she knew a call at this time definitely was something more than just a daily call. She sighed wondering what she did wrong today and only after chugging down another glass of wine to help calm her nerves, she answered the call.
Anchal: Hi Maa….How are…
Before she could even complete, her mother started off complaining.
Mom: What’s all that noise? Are you still out at this time?
Cursing herself for answering the call, Anchal tries to pacify her mom.
Anchal: No Maa, I’m home. The noise, it’s the Washing Machine, there’s something wrong with it. I need to get it fixed.
Mom: Why do you need to wash clothes at this time. Why create such a ruckus and nuisance for your neighbors.
Anchal: Maa, please stop. No one actually cares what people do in their houses, I needed to have my sheets washed and I didn’t want to wait till tomorrow.
Mom: I...
