Saturday, June 5, 2010

Height of Misfortune

2pm, 5th June 2010

Two band-aids on two minor injuries, on two different parts of my body.
Forty-eight hours of food-less-ness, and periodic spells of starvation.
Reasons: bankruptcy, absence of father, absence of house-maid.
Found a cube of Maggi.
Cooked it.
Tried pouring it in a bowl, in my usual fashion.
Something went wrong with the forces of physics in action in my kitchen.
The cooking vessel slipped from the holder.
The precious food succumbed to the forces of gravity, and shot downwards.
Few fell on my feet.
The rest, lay scattered in dollops, all around the floor.
The floor which hasn't been cleaned for more than forty-eight hours.
The floor on which I've been walking with my outdoor slippers on.
The floor on which the dustbin had spilled out a few hours ago. And had not been cleaned.
My right foot hurt.
I ate the food, and cleaned it with water.
It still hurt.
I leaned closer to get a better look.
It was turning purple.
I took my cell, and clicked a picture of the mess.
I squatted down on the floor, and started having my favorite Maggi.
Somehow, it didn't taste that good.
It didn't taste that bad, either.


  1. okay..OUCH!!

    but love the last two lines..has something more to it.. :)

  2. hmm. Everything is a metaphor. :P :D