Potato skined

This is a rewritten post, you can find the original post here.

After finishing lunch and cleaning the kitchen, 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 there are times when she gives in for the demands of the kids. She lives with her husband and teen-aged kids, who have lives of their own. She, in turn, has found a life of her own in the household chores.

That afternoon, after a lot of consideration she decides and the idea excites her. She hasn’t had Masala Dosa in a long while. The hiss of dosa batter when you pour it on the hot pan gives her goosebumps and the smell of golden brown dosa as you pour ghee over it fills her nostrils. She finds her mouth-watering. 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 morning, she enthusiastically checks the batter to find it nicely fermented 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 and finds them rotten. No, they are not rotten but look wrinkled. Then she remembers that it’s been more than a month. 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 like waves that came excitedly to greet the shore but retreating in disappointment. She no longer wants to cook. She sits on the couch with a heavy heart.


The voices of her husband and children from the dining room reach her. She knows they are waiting for their 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.



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1 Response to Potato skined

  1. Ahila says:

    The re-written version reads nicely! Good work!

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