In a very pensive mood. Though of writing a poem. Here is the fruit of my labour.

Screech

If life’s a rolling wheel,
And smooth be its function
Then why this screech that we encounter
On every decisive junction
Maybe I m pushing too hard,
Or maybe the wheel’s too splintered
Are excuses going to suffice?
Well, my journey is most certainly hindered.
Push as I might, some stone becomes a jerk
Pushes me to think, and rest while I ponder
But of course, thinking is wasting,
Precious time that there is,
The wheel is dysfunctional,
And all opportunities amiss,
Wistful thinking now,
I wish my life wasn’t a wheel.

SARVANNA TO KAKE

Once the festive fervour begins in Delhi, it seems almost sinlike to not participate in the buzz of the season. Hiding behind the same cultural ritual, I finally forced my family for a weekend of fun, frollic and cuisine tasting. Dressed up and ready-to-party as the cliche' goes, we excitedly began our journey to the famous kali-badi durga pandal at Mandir marg. Being a compulsive Punjabi has its own merits, but, being a self-acclaimed foodie has a diffrent charm altogether. So, with a new vow to discover at least the multi-cultural food-offerings in Delhi, I decided to start my festive season with bangla food. But, to much of my dismay and my mother's delight, the pandal had been packed long before we had even formulated the plan.

So, what to do now?

"Let's go to the new Sarvanna Bhavan in Karol Bagh," suggested my extremely adventurous brother. Well, to sum the South Indian food binge in short, I was famished, even after a full dosai( as reads the menu). However, to see the critical rating of the place, read the next post.

Well, so after a very disappointing start to my so-called 'cuisine adventure', my brother mockingly asked me, whether I wanted to seal the night with a propah Punjabi feast. So, wham, bam, we arrived at a packed Kake da Dhaba in Connaught Place.

"Quite the average Punjabi eatery, it is the psychological pretense of its goodness that attracts the hordes to this place," commented my mother, a seasoned cook, who will go to any lengths to avoid 'bahar ka dirty khana'. Well, but, as we devils (my bro and me), sat down to our Butter Chicken, seasoned with my mother's disapproving scowls, the air in the small eatery got thicker with the smoke from the tandoor. And with our table just next to the kitchen, it is needless to portray in words the various shades of colors that my mother's expressions underwent.

But, as we took a walk around Connaught Place after our dinner, the extremeity of our eating adventure coudln't help but tickle us a bit. Quite the North to South trail.

Well, in under 250 bucks, that's not a bad deal, bhape, is it?