Every new experience

The evening sky is painted an orange shade that defies description. Spun gold? Gold cotton candy? Faraway buildings and trees are silhouetted against this backdrop. Most birds are already tucked into their cosy nests. There is a lull, as day winds down and shakes hands with twilight. The evening sky never looks the same, each evening is different. I stand on the balcony and soak-in the peace.

My kids barge into my reverie. It is the weekend and they want to order-in pizza. I agree, and soon, with a few clicks, the order is placed. In just under forty-five minutes, the familiar square cardboard box is delivered, accompanied by that mouth-watering aroma that every pizza-lover relishes. Hmmm!

But what has become such a regular part of our lives now, was once a new experience for me. When we were kids most meals were home cooked. We rarely ate out. My mom made yummy Indian food, sweets and savouries at home, and we looked forward to all the treats she cooked for us.

When I left for university, I fondly remembered and yearned for my mom’s food. By the time I started working, most meals were eaten out, with friends and colleagues. And that was the time I ate my first-ever pizza. A new outlet had opened in the city close to my place of work, and all of us went over.

And that’s when I smelt a pizza for the first time, that unique melding of cheese, bell peppers, olives, pineapples and other veggies. My favourite part was adding the chilli flakes on top for that extra burst of flavour. We loved the pizza even more because of the experience of trying something for the first time.

Image courtesy – http://www.shutterstock.com

It was something new, something shared, something exciting, a new type of food, a slice of another culture. And we were never the same again. We had changed.

And that is true of all the new things we try in life. Some are great experiences, while some don’t go at all well; but each one of them changes us in subtle ways.

My kids are happy, and predictably disappear into their rooms. As I close the lid on the pizza box and clean up, night has fallen, and a few stars are twinkling high up in the firmament. The sky has also changed.

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Mind the Gap

I was reading an article this morning about the London Underground or Tube, and a funny incident came to mind.

A long time ago, more than fifteen years ago, I used to work in London.  It was my first trip outside India, and everything was fascinating and exciting.   I saw places that I had only read about,  and got to try all those food items that Enid Blyton wrote about in her books.

I learned about the Tube, and how to Mind the Gap and the pronunciation of certain words, which i had until that point pronounced differently.

My colleagues, who were already based there, took my enthusiasm in stride.

I must have been about a week old in London, and my colleagues and I were getting back to our workplace from a meeting.

       Courtesy – http://www.telegraph.co.uk

We took the Tube. The escalator in that station was very long or high, whatever the measure used.

I had just learned the rule that people who wanted to walk up the escalator walked on the right, while others stood on the left.

My colleagues told me that it was a thrill to walk up this longest escalator and that we would  time ourselves. I was very excited. Being the only lady, they asked me to start first.

I climbed, briskly, wow…it was exciting, and huff…puff…, I was struggling. The snake went on and on. I could not slow down, as my colleagues were behind me, or so I thought.

Like the wolf in the Three Li’l Pigs, I arrived on the top, a mass of huff-puff. I looked at my watch. Yay!

I turned around to look for my colleagues for a high five. Imagine my shock – all of them were travelling up on the left side. They caught my glares from above and shook with laughter.

I have such wonderful memories of London. It remains one of my favourite cities.