Puff balls

 Warm full milk activates the yeast. The yeast feeds on the sugar and releases its super powers. The egg that contributes some structure and flavor, some creamy butter full of promises, salt and then the most imperative dough. You have to mix and wait for the dough to rise, to be punched down again. Once the rolls are in the pan, you will have to wait another hour or so for them to rise again. Baking time is around 20 minutes.

Total time taken: 3 hours plus

Sow those seeds in April, in a small pot filled with weed compost. 2 inches deep and watered well. In about 7 to 10 days, they would be ready for outdoor life. Plant them in the ground in May. At 30 cm intervals. A cane A-frame that spans two adjacent rows would be a good idea to support the growing plants. Throughout the season you have to water them regularly. A liquid feed every 14 days would maximize the yield. By July, the runner bean pods would be around 20 cm and ready for harvest.

Total time taken: 4 months or more

There is a new foot mat at the door. The cob webs are swept off every day. New curtains smell of cotton and potpourri. Reddened knees on the floor trying to get rid of some stubborn stains. Even the chiller tray in the fridge gets a wipe down. A second or a third check in the bathroom to ensure there isn’t any hair sticking to the drain cover. Pillows fluffed up another time. The car glistening after a wash. The cat’s approval visible on the hood, shaped after a wet paw. The clock ticks way too slow. Time to go pick up someone.

Total time taken: an eternity

Time….is love.

Sometimes it is a bird that leaves your hand, hovers around, disappears and comes back to settle on your shoulders. At times, it is a dandelion you blow away in the wind. Off they go but one or two seedheads may get stuck in your hair. Just to remind you that you had it once.

In either case, if it leaves you with a smile, you would do alright.

Balcony

There is a one way street in front of my house.

Early morning is the loudest part of the day. The nursery right opposite becomes a house of wailing as parents drop off their kids and leave. A cacophony of human voices, honking cars and the thuds of car doors. And then as if on cue, the clamor dies as the tail end of the last car leaves around the bend.

The only house with a palm tree in the front, is where I live. Next to the palm tree is another tree I don’t recognize. There is a third one to the left, which I found out yesterday, is a lime tree.

In the evening the cars come back from the left in single file and slide into parking spaces left and right. Two feral cats who don’t give a shit about anything, find these cars to be warm metal hammocks to rest.

As sunset approaches, the trees become a house of activity. A horde of little birds chirping among the branches and the cats looking up in anticipation of some down covered dinner. A few people are out on a walk, the two young guys chain smoking next to their motorbikes and a single woman who lives in the ground floor whose spaniel looking to make friends with everyone on the road. The security guy squatting near the gate, talking loud on his mobile phone, to his family in Bangladesh.

On the lime tree, there is a blue, lone, restless hummingbird still looking for his mate.

Through the palm tree blades, the sky is split into pieces of bluish grey, with one holding a moon for a while until it moves out of the frame. A couple with a stroller gets out of their car and briefly pauses to introduce their baby to another lazy cat on a car roof. They laugh, kiss and go inside. Street lamps sport their burning blonde heads. The road is fallow in the yellow light.

The moon moves to another spot among the leaves.

There is a one way street in front of my house.

This street doesn’t take you anywhere in particular.

But it also takes you everywhere if you want to.