No...not chicken intestines http://digg.com/u1bIJ
Nor those of a pig's... http://digg.com/u1bJG
Not roasted mud salamanders http://digg.com/u1ZYG
Not a bundle of fried earth worms ... http://digg.com/u1bZF
Nor an alien life form http://digg.com/u1bSS
Not some diced sea anemone http://digg.com/u1bYN
Nor a cooked orange squid http://digg.com/u1bXo
Not something created by an infant after feeding (could not get a link for this)
Nor was it created by an adult before or after feeding (I refuse to find a link for this!)
These are definitely not my brains (they were fried and eaten years ago at school)
Nor those of George Bush's (would need an electron microscope to see them..)
And no - it does not move when touched....
Ok - let me admit it, this is what I ended up with when I tried to make some Jalebi's over the last weekend at home!
Now, you may wonder why I ventured out to make Jalebis? Well, it is a long sad story and I want to take it off my heart - please read on and do me the favour.
I will start from the beginning...
Those who know me well, know that I have a fiercely competitive disposition. This is not just restricted to the dinner table or while watching TV with the kids or while playing cricket with my son. This keen sense of competition shows up in my parenting too. I absolutely want to be the best parent – even better than my wife! No two ways about it. I want my kids to love me more than they love my wife!
If someone asks - “Kids, who do you like more?? Your father or your mother?”
I want the answer to be an unequivocal and enthusiastic - “Mother who??”
Next when they are asked - “Kids, isn’t that your mother??”
I want the answer to be – again as unequivocal and as enthusiastic –
“Oh – that aunty is our father’s wife!!”
You can see that my competitive parenting instinct has put me in direct competetion with my wife. It is unfortunate, but you need to give some to win some. This is the story of the battle for the kids that was fought last week in the plains of the house called "Anandam" (this is where we live - "Anandam" means Peace).
History is witness to the fact that I adopt a combination of rock solid strategy and aggressive tactics to decimate the competition. In keeping with this reputation, I needed to formulate a failsafe strategy to win over my kids. It was clear to me that this was a war that could be won only by winning their hearts and minds. After much research on children’s psychology, I concluded that their hearts and minds could be won only through their tongues and stomachs! And then, to my horror, I realized that my wife was already on to this. She had known this all along, no wonder she had monopolized the kitchen, no wonder she loved to cook, no wonder the kids loved her, no wonder they stopped just short of showing me the finger! This was not going to be easy. Competition was tough and not willing to give up turf without a fight. It held total sway on their hearts and minds.
It was with a feeling of foreboding that I set about looking for a chink in the enemy’s armour. After much tossing and turning through the night, the idea of using guerilla warfare finally dawned on me. This time tested strategy was the only way to break the enemy’s stranglehold on my territory. I was excited. It felt like my heart was pumping helium instead of blood. I carefully formulated the tactics for the first attack – it would be an ambush over the weekend….
The weekend is finally here. All is quiet, except for the kids – who were creating a racket like a bunch of drunk parakeets trying to chant the Rig veda in chorus.
My wife is busy consolidating her position. Yes… in the kitchen. The time is ripe to launch the attack….
First, the trap must be set.
I call out to my son - once, twice - no reply, the third time I shout - success! He slowly puts down his guns, releases his sister's hair and comes over.
I take him aside and say “Dude, you scored A+ in all your subjects, don’t you think sweets are due?”
With a gleam in his eyes he says, “Pop, you are right. We must have sweets.”
I twist the key further
“Your ma makes wonderful Jalebis – why don’t you ask her to make some for you today. It’s not that difficult.”
My son takes off his helmet, the hideous mask and cape, walks over to the kitchen. “Ma, could you make some sweets today because I got all A+ at school?”.
“Sure son, what do you want?”
The trap clicks into place.
“I want Jalebis“
“I don’t know how to make Jalebi’s ask for something else.”
The trap holds fast, this is no ordinary trap – the victim knows it.
“No ma, I want Jalebis and I want you to make them today”
Time to launch the attack – NO! not yet , give it a couple of seconds more..
“I told you I don’t know how to make Jalebis, so stop asking me again and again”
Attack …Now!!
“Son, if ma can’t make it, then I will make it for you, ok?”
The rest, like everything else, is History.
The Jalebi operation was a failure – it was termed the “Culinary Disaster of the Century”
My daughter wouldn’t go into the kitchen because she was afraid of being bitten by the orange “boo-boo” in the plate
My son however was convinced it was not a boo-boo, but just a slithery rubber toy that smelt like burnt rubber.
The Kitchen has since fallen back into the enemy control. I am back at my computer looking for better recipes to take the kitchen back…
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