I’m a very big monsoon person and love the rain, though
getting wet is something I’m not too fond of. But then, I’ve proved that
getting wet doesn’t actually give you a cold, even though my mother still isn’t
sold on the idea. Science does have its limitations apparently, seeing how
nothing in the world seems to be able to displace my mother’s logic. This
despite her being a doctor…
But the main reason why I love the monsoon is due to the coming of one of the most successful entrepreneur (in my opinion, at least): the boiled groundnut vendor. Boiled groundnuts are something I wait every year for since it symbolises a cherished part of my childhood. As far as I can remember, I’ve always been slightly more excited about these little nuts than anyone I know, for reasons that escape me as usual. I still remember how I bonded with one of my cousins with whom I had never spoken more than 10 words in my entire childhood over a humongous pile of boiled groundnuts during a power outage on a swing at my aunt’s place. For some reason, the darkness accentuated the taste of the nuts and ever since then, I’ve always associated groundnuts to this memory.
Now, to the rest of the world, getting a packet of
groundnuts only involves walking out of their homes and buying some from the
closest vendor. But then, things are never that simple around me. The minute I
decide that I would like to have some, the vendor vanishes. It becomes a sort
of quest to find him, almost like trying to find a nomad in a desert. My desire
for groundnuts usually goes unfulfilled on most days since I can never find
him. So, in an effort to defy the laws of Fate that seem to be set against me,
I carefully leave my mind blank when I approach a constant haunt of one of the vendors
and try as much as possible not to think about groundnuts. Over the past few
months of the monsoon season, I have succeeded and failed equally but the salt
of those steaming little treasures calls me to keep my spirits up and push
forward. And so as winter comes, I wait for next year when I shall once again
begin my quest on the trail of Ground-nut-man…But the main reason why I love the monsoon is due to the coming of one of the most successful entrepreneur (in my opinion, at least): the boiled groundnut vendor. Boiled groundnuts are something I wait every year for since it symbolises a cherished part of my childhood. As far as I can remember, I’ve always been slightly more excited about these little nuts than anyone I know, for reasons that escape me as usual. I still remember how I bonded with one of my cousins with whom I had never spoken more than 10 words in my entire childhood over a humongous pile of boiled groundnuts during a power outage on a swing at my aunt’s place. For some reason, the darkness accentuated the taste of the nuts and ever since then, I’ve always associated groundnuts to this memory.
...nice post...you just magically turn the little moments we experience in day-to-day life into a piece of literature. Nice anecdote; when I read through its lines, I get that "Oh I've been in that situation before.." feeling...Not just this one; almost all your posts. There is always this warmth and nostalgia amalgamated with Humor and sarcasm...cheerios; uv a bright future ahead!
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