Foodology of my 37 year old child

On the days I fast, I am mentally tired. I make sure I cook for everyone who requires food and their specific quantities for the day and retire to my other chores.
Today, I woke up and decided to fast as I had eaten in a restaurant yesterday. My better half comes along and says – “I think.. hmm.. maybe I should fast too.” He also did his best to share this with whomever he met during the morning, as he always does and gained all their sympathy, and giving me the stares as though I am the villain who starves him!
I cooked enough for the two kids for the day.
In the afternoon, as is the case always, his fast was coming to an end and he was rummaging through the kitchen to eat. Tv, being his primary activity when home, always makes him crave for food. That coupled with the sight of me feeding the kids totally killed the idea of a fast in his mind! Unfortunately like always, when he decided he has fasted enough. I had no witnesses for this act, sadly! None of those people who took pity on him in the morning got to know how short his definition of a fast is. Its only the good-old boring wife who knows the skeletons in his closet!
He got up vigorously and proclaimed he was going to make dosas for himself. I took pity on him and said – “Why don’t you just keep a cup of rice because there is Sambar and two curries in the fridge.”
He picked up the cooker and filled it with water and left in on the counter. He picked up a dish measured rice with the wrong measuring cup(thank heavens it was dry) then added three tumblers of water to it and realised it had small black weevils. He then washed it in the RO water and drained the water in the sink, again filled water and kept it inside the cooker. The flame was blazing. By the time I got from the kitchen to my work room, the first whistle shot up. Then another, then another. He was going to switch it off when he asked me – ” only three whistles right? ” I said no, it needs a lot more cooking. The cooker seemed to be blowing away whistles at bullet speed, I felt like it was screaming out to me for rescue against this mortal abuse. He let it yell a couple of more times, switched it off. Minutes after switching it off, he rushed into the kitchen, picked up tongs and tried to release the pressure, came back unsuccessful, However, this exercise he did relentlessly a few more times, and the cooker finally gave in – crying white gooey tears and asking for mercy and forgiveness. Deepak was plain brutal. I wondered – was it the hunger or the movie he was watching that was working on him. After all, there is research that says tv screen makes one hyper active!
The moment of truth had arrived and I was so eager to see what happened to the rice inside. once the cooker was opened there it came – a dish full of murky water with rice half cooked lying in its bed staring at Deepak, telling him – “Hey buddy, cooker and I share a special thing. You got to give us our time to do our thing. It doesn’t work otherwise.”


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