At this moment I can’t even remember what it’s like to buy a can of baked beans. And the feeling of walking out Checkers with a new pack of courtleigh…SAD. I haven’t left the house in 3 whole weeks. But nah I won’t deny being at home this long gave me a new outlook on life and it’s actually been really therapeutic. That’s not what I need to tell you about. After these 3 weeks and all the memes going around about what it’s like living with Indian parents…today was the perfect example.
I woke up after 12 and got the usual shouting (yea we don’t say Good morning and all that) from my parents for waking up ‘mid-afternoon’ and went to make my breakfast. While I was frying eggs, I forgot the chai on the stove, and it boiled over. At that moment I was waiting for my mom’s scream but instead I got a champal in the face. (So, a champal is a sandal. An Indian sandal) and it got me thinking… that exact damned champal (I have no idea how it has not broken yet) shaped my childhood. From forgetting to do my homework to walking in the house with muddy shoes I would always get hit by that very champal. Being Indian your mom’s champal is definitely part of your childhood. How do I explain it… a poem? Head over to my poems and read Champal. And you’ll see how that champal shaped my life.
