Tag Archives: mishap

Alarm

The shrill voice of the alarm rang. It went on emitting ear splitting sounds. All because I had put a little oil into the frying pan. The oil started to sizzle, and I had forgotten to switch off the heat.

I rushed first to remove the pan from heat, turned on the exhaust, and ran to the balcony doors to let fresh air in. I was furious with myself as to how could I had committed the crime of forgetfulness?

Son had cautioned me earlier as not to open our front door in case of any mishap. He was home, so he judiciously reminded me again, while sitting on a sofa, and calmly watching me run towards the balcony doors.

There had been an unfortunate incident which had happened to a couple living in the same building as us. The wife opened the front door, and the whole apartment was deluged with water from the sprinklers. Their belongings were ruined, and they had no insurance.

The strict instructions from the management are: that when the fire alarm is activated, the front door shouldn’t be opened, otherwise the next set of alarms in the corridor turns on the water sprinklers.

The fire alarm rang on continuously. It wouldn’t stop, making me wonder whether it would continue screeching for the whole night. I waved a towel at it, hoping it might have a quietening effect. It was a futile effort. My ears were getting damaged. I moved away, and waited. Finally it stopped.

I’m a careful person, and still it happened. I hope it never happens again.

Saved

Yesterday I had a little mishap, and it wasn’t my fault. I was going in my own lane. Unexpectedly a driver came out of the left side lane, and tried to swing into my car. I swerved to the right to save my car from collision. My outside mirror swung up with the impact, and the horrible person scraped my car. If I hadn’t slowed, and swerved to the right, this chap would have totaled my car.

It was so unbelievable, and I kept telling Son to write down the car’s number plate, so that we could make a report. Son didn’t, and later on gave this explanation. “It would have been a waste of time, and the car insurance would have gone up. The weirdo driving the car would have lied, and made it your fault. ”

Nothing left to say!

Breakthrough 


The gates would open, if you had a sensor key. I had not applied for it then. I have it now, it’s a breakthrough for me.

Before I got the key, I had to drive slight right towards a curve, punch in the code, and then drive through the gates. But should have watched for another curve which came before the road straightened towards the gates. I didn’t (it was my first time), the car tilted as the left front wheel climbed it. I wasn’t expecting this mishap to happen. My heart dropped down right into my shoes.

With a scolding ringing in my ears from my dearest son (shouldn’t this be the other way round–mamas scold their children), I managed to reach the gates, which were fast closing .

Son refusing to sit in the car with me again (he sits none the less), and with a red face, I entered the gates.

Heigh Ho! We were home.

…..

DAILY PROMPT

Breakthrough

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.

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My Journey in Food

Shaken and Stirred
by Ben Huberman
What’s the most elaborate, complicated meal you’ve ever cooked? Was it a triumph for the ages, or a colossal fiasco? Give us the behind-the-scenes story (pictures are welcome, of course).

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My father was a widower till he got married again after a gap of nine years. We always had a male , or female person to cook for us. Growing up, I didn’t know anything about cooking, so I didn’t learn anything.

For the first three years of my married life, I was lucky in having marvelous cooks. They knew how to cook delicious meals, and tempting desserts.

The ax fell when my husband returned from deputation to Army life. There was no one to take up the workings of a kitchen. I was at a loss feeling overwhelmed at the change in my life.

My every meal was a disaster. Thank God my (late) husband was magnanimous in that aspect. He put up with culinary mishaps, and kept on encouraging me.

At the end of his life, he couldn’t put up with anyone else cooking except mine. He would point out, “I want food exactly the way she makes it.”

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