–Snippets from my quarantined musings
Step 1: Boil water
I remember the time I heard Kamal Hassan music wafting through the air. Crossing the street towards me as I sat on my aunt’s cool cement porch. My aunt, uncle and I were digesting our dinner and freeloading on the neighbour’s radio. He always unnecessarily smiled and I guess free radio for the community was his way of making up for it. It was a good half hour before everyone lost interest and the mosquitoes drove us into our house (an ill advised solution really).
Step 2: Add pure coffee powder in the strainer compartment of the coffee filter. Fill about 1/2 of it.
I think it was 2017, before college or perhaps even earlier. I spent my few days off at my village in my Aunt’s place. There’s not much to do really, but there’s a TV, air conditioning and a WiFi connection so I didn’t really complain then. When the heat had gotten to me and the food lost it’s appeal (not that it had great appeal before) I decided to learn something; peer outside my hamster ball and admire the world so to speak. I came across my aunt binding flowers into a garland one afternoon and I was instantly fascinated by how her fingers moved! I overestimated myself and learnt something new about myself that day. My fingers aren’t adept at garlanding. What is so great about flowers anyway? They are unnecessarily romanticised and painfully feminine. If you think I’m a sore loser who disses things she doesn’t excel in, then you are not further from the truth.
Step 3: Fill the rest with hot water. Let it distill with time and collect into a decoction
But it didn’t bother me too much, not until today. As I sat at home cutting vegetables (part of my quarantine induced punishment), my mom asked me to help her cook the entire lunch. I didn’t say anything more than my sulking demeanour needed to. She looked at me in a disappointed way. Something my aunt did that day back in 2017 or whenever.
Step 4: Fill almost a third of the tumbler with decoction, add milk and sugar.
My mom coolly said not meeting my eye, “Atleast I don’t have to worry about equipping you with housewife skills…we should look for that in your future husband”
I didn’t retort to that because my mom knows my tirade on gender roles by-heart. We are at that point in our relationship where we say things only to defy each other. It’s called late adolescent-identity-moratorium and stubborn-late-adulthood.
Step 5: Pour the contents between a steel saucer and the tumblr to create a rich froth
The good thing is, I don’t need a husband for a strong cup of filter coffee.
Cheers.
The featured image was found on Pinterest, I do not own it or any rights to it.
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