You have kids all over the place.
One stuck in tuitions. One practicing lawn tennis. One playing with the neighbour’s Rottweiler. And one threatening to walk out of your womb any moment.
He takes a spoonful. Pauses. Smiles. You’ve nailed his mom’s recipe (Epic moment! After years of marriage and the 4th child on its way, you finally got him to agree to that one?!)
One stuck in tuitions. One practicing lawn tennis. One playing with the neighbour’s Rottweiler. And one threatening to walk out of your womb any moment.
You’ve had a long day.
You clean, do the laundry, fold clothes, talk over the phone, play counselor to your husband’s sister, call the neighbor, shop, wash and clean some more on repeat mode.
You enter the kitchen and get started on making a complicated recipe.
You toil and toil from gas burner to gas burner with 4 not-so-perfect batches of Navratna Korma.
The husband comes home and the aromas seem to be an effective mood-lifter.
You're relieved that the 5th batch wont see the insides of the trash can.
He takes a spoonful. Pauses. Smiles. You’ve nailed his mom’s recipe (Epic moment! After years of marriage and the 4th child on its way, you finally got him to agree to that one?!)
…And you give credit to the mirchi powder you used?
Bollocks!
Sometimes, I hate advertisements.
Sometimes, I hate advertisements.
