You may say that it’s illogical to think that the universe is conspiring to embarrass me in front of the entire WordPress community, or to imaging that someone in some other corner of the word sat back, rubbing their hands in glee, musing, ‘Hmmm, now what prompt can I sucker punch her with?’
Logically I’m just not that important.
Now you’re wondering what the big build up is for?
Two reasons. First of all, I’m a writer, this is my stream, and giving a buildup, no matter how corny, is my prerogative. Secondly, I suck at making chapatis*, or any other flat bread that involves flour, and when you are a 40+ Indian woman, that is a real discredit to your upbringing.
I try. I really do. I’m a good girl, I am…
They tell me the trick is in the kneading. Boy do I knead. I knead like the future of my first born depends on it, (which is bloody unnecessary since my first born doesn’t even live at home with us)! Any more kneading and I could drill my way to whichever place is antipodal to India. (I just googled that. Apparently, I would emerge in the South Pacific, which makes sense since I don’t know how to swim, and that’s just how much my luck sucks.)
Next, I’m supposed to roll it out with a gentle touch. I’m so gentle that my husband wishes to be reborn a chapati!
Finally comes the roasting part… My roast is always toast.
Ya. So, since I can’t make a decent chapati, and every plant/flower that I try to nurture, ends up shriveled and dead, I’m justified in thinking that someone (I’m not taking names) somewhere (she below and the Lord above) really has it out for me.
*Chapati is an unleavened flatbread made of whole wheat flour which is a staple in the Indian Subcontinent