At the critical moment when my flat bread (roti) was underneath the grill, the Chapli Kababs were getting nicely browned in the frying pan, the smoke alarm started screeching. Startled I jumped a mile high — no that wouldn’t be correct to say, a few inches from the floor won’t be far from truth.
The sound was deafening. I’m always taken aback by the noise, and for a few seconds I remained immobilized with shock from the ringing sound. The trouble is there are five of them in our small apartment. When one starts ringing, all five join in. Smoke was billowing out from the roti. It was getting more burnt, as I stared at it in actively for a few moments. I rescued it from further burning from the grill, pushed the exhaust button before I rushed to the balcony doors to throw them open.
It would have been a perfect picture of me, if someone was there to take a picture.
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