Thursday, February 26, 2015

704. I hate (like) idlis

When I was 5 years old, I used to run away from my home when ever my mom made idlis for breakfast ( 8 am).

I will run to the end of the street, wait there for some time and when no one cares about me, I will walk back slowly to the house. (8:15 am)

I did not have enough money to run back to Bangkok; nor did my mom tell me that she will make me the party president of the house to lure me back home. 

I will slowly walk back home only to find that no one at home had even missed me for the short period I ran away from home.

The front door will be locked. I will slowly walk around the house and try to sneak in through the back door. My mom knew all my moves. So she will lock the back door too. I will finally start saying  "I am sorry mom. I won't run away again". She will hear me; but would pretend as if she had not heard my cry. 

I will go on asking sorry for some more time. In the mean time she would have finished her household chores and because of that she would allow me inside the house. She will open the back door and I will walk in with my head hanging down low.( 9:30 am) I would think that the problem had ended; but in reality the problem for me starts only when I return home.

My mom would bring those 4 idlis (Now they would be super cold) and ask me to eat them. I considered eating idlis as a big time punishment even when they were hot. But eating cold, dry and hard idlis was capital punishment for me. I would plead with her and ask her to make maggi noodles for me. Mom would take the plate and keep it on the floor near the bathroom and tell me to go and kneel down near the plate and finish the idlis. I will swallow the idlis in no time.

But at times, when my mom places the plate of idlis near the bathroom and asks me to kneel down and eat them; I would wait for an opportunity to check if she was watching me. If her concentration was not on the plate of idlis, then two idlis will fly out through the window to the neighbours house. 

On one such idli throwing day, my throw ended up falling on the neighbour aunty's head. She created a big scene and my mom got so furious that the punishment intensity went on to a whole new level that day. My mom never punished me with big canes or sticks. All she used was a couple of coconut sticks. 

The coconut sticks are evil sticks. They look so thin like Ishant Sharma but they sting like Mike Tyson. They leave their mark on the legs. On days when I had marks on my legs, I will pull up the socks all the way to my thighs so that my classmates (girls) do not see the marks and mock at me.

So with the neighbours house rules out, the next location I chose to throw the idlis was the toilet. I became an expert in throwing the idlis that Limba Ram would have started to feel jealous of my aim , if only he had seen my idli throwing skills. But that did not continue for a long time too. 

My sister caught me red handed on one such occasion. I pleaded with her not to tell mom. But how could she miss such an opportunity especially when we were like a cat and a mouse at home? This time I went to school with my thigh high socks for almost a month. The impact was so deep. Mom hated anyone wasting food.

Now I am married and I have a kid of my own. Now Idli is my favourite food item. This morning when my wife was feeding idlis to my daughter, she said " Enakku idli vendaa" and I thought to myself "History repeats".



  1. LOL.. good one bro..btw where did you buy those super strechy socks?;)

  2. *Laughing* I also experienced the socks pulling episodes many times in my childhood. U faced coconut sticks, I tolerated bamboo sticks (capital punishment)


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