It is her routine, every afternoon, to mull over and decide tomorrow’s menu. That’s one of the most important decisions she takes everyday. She has complete monopoly over the decisions. But at times she gives in for the demands of the kids.
After a lot of consideration, she decides and she is excited. She hasn’t had Masala Dosa in a long while. The idea of it excites her. She gets up from her chair and goes to the kitchen to see if she has the necessary supplies. Finding that the supply of potatoes is too short, she decides to go for grocery shopping, which being one of her other important decisions of a day.
That evening, she keeps the dosa batter ready. Next day, the enthusiasm has not cooled off. She checks the batter to find it nicely done and ready for dosa. To make the masala, she picks the potatoes from yesterday’s purchase. She remembers of having two left over from the previous supply. She picks those two. Though the potatoes are not rotten, they look wrinkled. In fact, those are from last month’s supply. She looks at the old potatoes and the new ones. Then gently run her fingers on the wrinkled skin of the old potato. It was like hers. Once smooth and fresh but now wrinkled. Suddenly, her enthusiasm is completely swept away. She no longer wants to cook. She sits on the couch with a heavy heart.
It’s breakfast time; her husband and children are at the dinning table waiting for the breakfast. When they see her sitting on the couch, they ask why the breakfast is not yet ready. Each person voicing his or her own concerns – I have a meeting, my school bus will come, I have a debate at college… She doesn’t hear anything properly but she knows that no one has asked her what happened to her.