I should have never looked. It was a face I had come to fear but he wouldn’t leave me alone. His arms reached for me and held me in place.
“What went on behind those eyes?” I wondered.
“You’ll never get away from me” my reflection said, as he let go and slipped back into the mirror.
Vultures get a bad rap. They really don’t mean any harm. I haven’t had the time to blog for quiet a while now, internships with newspapers take a surprising amount of time.
Maybe I’m lying to myself, maybe it isn’t just all the work I’m stuck with. I do have a tendency to be nomadic with my interests but I don’t let it worry me. Nomads always stick to trodden paths.
The internship is a funny preoccupation. I’m there because I have to be. I’d say I don’t like them, that they’re a bunch of propagandists but I can’t get myself to do it. They’re nice people honestly. It’s downright bizarre how well they all get along. And scary how pleasant faces can pen dangerous spins.
There are time when I feel like it’s hell. Do well and they give you more work. All day, Sunday to Saturday. Feel too tired to care about bylines really. In the heart of a corporate machine my emotions surprise me. But you do end up enjoying it eventually.
If there’s a memory I fear that’s going to haunt me it’s standing in a dusty hospital in the cities outskirts with other interns grinning about getting a big story, smelling blood and realizing we were there because their blood was our livelihood.
I thought about calling this entry “Wet Chapatti” until I realized how dirty that sounds.
I don’t eat meat, I don’t eat rice and I hate anything that has curds on it so my diet is rather limited. Most of what I eat is wheat based. Chapattis are my main source of sustenance . My cook makes Chapatti when he tuns up at around 8 in the morning, earphone buried in his heads, in the middle of a loud never ending conversation with someone. I eat yesterdays chapatis for breakfast before he takes off his ever present black cap, starts cooking and I pack yesterdays chapatis for lunch. The only time I eat what he makes on the day he makes it is during dinner. Sunday is miscellaneous food day.I have a system. A cycle which always feels weird when broken.
The chapatis taste good. But after eating them for so long, I’m more concerned with how normal they taste. Good stops being a relevant category when you get so familiar with some you eat. And I’ve eaten these Chapattis for years. Everyday 4 chapattis ,out of the 20 or so, aren’t normal. The one’s who stay at the top of the box and the one’s at the bottom always manage to get a little moist. It’s evaporation that’s at fault here. They taste like wet atta and I try to get them out of the way before they make the rest of them taste terrible. It always looks like they start ruining the other chapattis they rest on the second I see them.
I hate how chapattis taste when they get wet. It’s odd I suppose since all my efforts at keeping them dry is futile. Everything you eat a chapatti with is going going to make it wet. Hell eating it makes it wet. But I still hate it. Occasionally I’ll notice if a curry doesn’t taste very good. I usually read or watch something while I eat so it doesn’t bother me. After you spend so much eating the same thing over and over again, you need something to distract you.
I know the taste too well to care sometimes. If the cook makes something new I.E if there are ingredients in the fridge, I actually notice. He makes good food. always spicy. I wonder how he knows since I’ve never actually told him anything about food. He likes cricket and is from some northern part of the country. He speaks Hindi or something like it. His accent makes it hard to understand. A real nice guy.
So if there’s something news and the cook has enough oil. I’ll taste something spicy, something familiar. I’ll change the cycle a little bit and I’ll eat 8 instead of 5 chapattis.