Back to Innocence

I was happening to watch a film while flipping channels on a lazy Sunday afternoon laying sprawled on my bed. I knew not of the name of the film or cared less to find what channel it was being aired on. It was a scene of a sunny day in a village where an middle aged son was back home after winning a piano in a rowdy bet at a drinking hole down at the town's square. It was a poor and simple peasant family of a loving mother, a sweet and beautiful sister and a couple of brother's (oh! well I didn't get the details actually.) The whole family was pleasantly shocked to find a piano arrive at their door step. Except for the mother none of the other sibling had ever seen a piano in their lives. But they knew for sure that it was something of awe. The mother was so delighted; you could almost feel her overwhelming emotions reach out of the screen like tentacles of powdery smoke grabbing at you. I was beginning to smile without my knowledge.

It was the same pure child like joy that fills any moment of innocent surprise. The same kind of joy that would light up the mischievous eyes of little kids I play with.

It makes you ache in your heart ... a tug somewhere deep in your being, an urge to go back to that innocence, giving up all the funny false pursuits in your world. Back to that time of timeless joy. Where every emotion is felt completely. Where you can cry like a child and laugh like a kid.

Your head goes up in a race of mad swirl and you can almost hear yourself praying aloud asking the being above to grab you back into His warm folds never to let you go again... never ... never ....

At the New Yorkers

Wooooo! There was a mad spate of ultra frequent eat outs in a short span of a month, that I couldn’t simply sit down to pen my thoughts on any one of them. So here I am back … but this time around I want to write about all the gloriously warm and dull lit, softly aroma filled restaurants I chanced visiting.

To begin with ... the entire tide of outings got spurred by the simple occurrence of the Georgian remembrance of my decent on planet Earth, my BIG BRIGHT RED LETTERED DAY! On that evening I had been out, with family to this pretty popular place, opposite “The Park”, called “The New Yorkers”. It was a very pizza-kinda place. However, I guess it must have been the time we went in, for it was sparingly dotted with people. We were five of us wanting to spend some quality time together relishing out-of-the-world-food, food that we have never before seen on our regular menus. Following crossword and puzzle filled paper mats, came the much looked forward to menu. There was Mexican, Italian, American and Lebanese food.

I was so hungry that I could have nibbled at the edges of the sofa I sat on. So the first thing I wanted was a good piping hot soup. So there it was sweet corn and cream of tomato soup, on the menu. And oh!...what about the starters … cheese balls filled with American corn and spice. Adding to the magic of the starters and soups was the Mexican salsa sauce. I could have almost kissed the chef’s hands for that amazing taste.

Main course - there was Pizza (a bad idea to order that one here), lasagna in tomato sauce, garlic bread, burrito and a couple of other goodies. The food was filling and worth every penny (though a bit steep than elsewhere.) We were in a kind of pleasant mood, so by Gods’ ultimate grace my sis was for once not cribbing about food being served cold or freezing the poor server with those wretched blinding stares and worse still, her biting words. Commenting favorably for every mouthful we spooned, we kept appreciating ourselves for having chosen the right place for a decent family outing. Well the best is yet to come.

Ting-Tong!!! Time for desserts! There were very few to choose from though. So we called for the sizzler brownie and a chocolate something. (That’s a bad habit I have got myself into …. “Ice cream = chocolate syndrome”, I must get out of it some how. Anyway, prompt it arrived on a flat wooden dish holding a square piece of cake and a large helping of vanilla ice cream. The moment it was laid on the table, the server poured smoking hot chocolate sauce and threw at it a handful of nuts. And in we dived with our spoons. Whoo … it was a hell of an ice cream. I can’t explain what it felt like to have hot chocolate melting the ice cream and nuts in your mouths. It was the crowning glory of the night’s dinner. A perfect way to end a fabulous birth day.

Oooopppsss … I did it again. One more account of flab kissing foodie adventure that runs father than a page’s length. Hmmmm… I‘ll get back when I’ve practiced it enough to write crisp and clear … instead of ranting on and on …..blah blah blah ….