Principia Unlogica

I love food... I mean really well prepared food. I love to cook, love to feed people and love to eat at good restaurants. I am hungry. All I can think of is crispy bread loaf with a pat of european sweet butter, rich luscious strawberries, butterfly pasta in wine based white sauce with parmesan cheese, a nice porto, a dark chocolate hazelnut mousse, the paneer and potatoes in a creamy sauce of malai koftas, spicy thin poha chivda with onions and dhaniya, surali wadi with lots of tadka, malai lassi, butter sauteed mushrooms, ghee soaked puran poli, soft rasmalai... Thats living!

Fasting is good. It makes you appreciate what hunger feels like. And makes you appreciate food and having it. Whenever a desi mom starts talking about her kid's food habits, weight and likes, I am gripped by a firm desire to disappear. Somehow, there is a competition in proving whose kid is the worst in his eating habits, lowest on weight charts and finicky in food likings. It makes me think of malnourished children. Of the broken and scarred children in war zones trying to sort through the war atrocities they have witnessed before even being aware of lack of food that is killing them. I was listening to a talk on NPR of a Medicins Sans Frontieres nurse who was describing her experience in Sudan - of how they help mothers who walk in with children who barely can move, how they have kids as young as four year olds stumble into their clinic - alone. I don't know what I can do beyond feel the anguish? And maybe do some monetary contributions. Maybe this is the only time I find mys