Days of simple happiness

A lot of my online friends,(well, I seem to have more of them than the real life ones!), have taken the 100  days of happiness challenge. Sounded weird to me. I mean, can you really limit the number of days you can be happy, or appear to be happy? What about the rest of the days of your life? Aren't we supposed to be happy then? Or was I missing the point? Then one of my 'real life' friend explained the concept to me. It's about finding, or trying to find, a source, a reason, an idea or anything that brings happiness to you for a specific duration, say in this case a 100 days. She dared me to do it for a longer duration of time, if I could. It's the easiest challenge I had accepted till date, or so it appeared till I started it. Finding a reason or idea or anything that brings a smile to our face or touches our heart in our daily life is not easy. Not because it's not there, but because we close our minds to it. So caught up are we in our automaton lives that we don't have the time or the inclination to enjoy the small pleasures. That's when, after two failed attempts to start and sustain my challenge, I decided to give it a final dedicated shot. Like my friend said, "It's all up here, in your mind!"  So here I'm, trying to find at least one instance of happiness in each day from hereon for the next hundred days.

Let me start of by talking about something that always brings a smile to my face, and heart, and stomach - food. Yesterday's weather was perfect for a drive, to be outdoors. So we decided to go visit the temple town of Annavaram. A quaint sleepy town, with its raison d'être being an old temple situated happily on top of a hillock. It was a favourite getaway earlier when I was staying alone. This visit was going to be different because we were going as a family. The two hour drive was blissfully uneventful. At the temple, a few extra hundreds ensured speedy, unobstructed darshan of the deity and we were done. Now for the more important things at hand, lunch. We walked into the first restaurant that we crossed as soon as we got out of the temple gates. It was a typical South-Indian mess, a fuss-free place with only one item on the menu, the self-sufficient veg-thali. This guy was a little more entrepreneurial and offered idli-chutney also on the menu. There were tables all around and people sat down where ever they found an empty place. We luckily got a table for four and settled down to have our thali. The adventure began when instead of plates, the lady got us banana leaves and placed it in front of us. She sprinkled some water on it and was gone. The girls went crazy. How could they eat on THIS? Then came the round of serving with one boy serving only chutneys, then another came and served us the curries, sambar, rasam, dal and pulusu, then came the papadams, and finally the lady came back and heaped our plates with hot steaming white rice. Yuuummmmm...it was pure heaven. That inconsequential gastronomical spread had done what I was wrongly seeking inside the sacred sanctum. I found what I had come looking for - inner peace and happiness. I didn't wait for the others to start and immediately dug into the hot rice while the others were trying to figure out from where to start. It was one of the best, most satisfying meals I've had in a long, long time. There's no fuss, no frills yet it's the most fulfilling experience. I'm sure every true-blue South Indian will identify with this incomparable experience.

Gives a happy feeling! Food always does. 

Do round rotis taste better than non round rotis

Rotis are rotis. Round or otherwise. It will always have atta and some water to make it into a soft dough. The shape becomes relevant in the context. I mean the ingredients remain the same, well most of the time, unless you decide to become adventurous and improvise. You know like add some thing extra like freshly chopped dhania or some finely grated veggies which would otherwise be unpalatable to the kids. So I guess the shape and size do not really matter. Yeah if you ask this same question to a hungry person, you can expect a very predictable answer. Just gimme the roti Amma! Round, square, triangle, or any other polygon that you can think of. Just give me the damn roti. Well for a person suffering the pangs of deprivation and denial, any edible consumable is welcome. Colour, shape, texture, vintage etc. are of no consequence or importance to the starved being. What's relevant is it is consumable. Period. 

Hot just off the tava soft rotis are the fastest and surest way to reach the gastronomic heaven. No ambiguity there. Umm ..serve it with a sinful blob of butter and you do the greatest service to the insatiable palates. It earns you enough compliments to want to go back and create more such pieces d'resistance. Most of the Indian households , especially those north of the vindhyas, need the assurance of these simple, unassuming, delectable rotis to feel satisfied about their dinner. You know that alls fine with my world feeling. The weariness of the day, the fatigue when struggling to earn the very same rotis for the family, the struggle to provide two square meals ( square meals of round rotis!?! Strange!!) , everything seems so irrelevant when the first morsel enters the mouth. Life seems so blissful and complete. God is generous and merciful. Every Lalita Pawar incarnate would bless her good-for-nothing daughter-in-law for these gems. Maybe not aloud but happy she will feel. 

So I guess the shape doesn't matter. What matters is the how hungry is the consumer.