I call him Prince because he lives life like that way. You will never know whether he has money or not in his wallet. He breezes through life like a ballet dancer. We have been friends for quite some years. Love for food is something we share. I love cooking for him because it’s such a pleasure to see him relishing the food. There’s a purity to that emotion.
He was in Delhi recently and he called me to ask what do I want from Delhi. In the midst of deadlines glaring at my face, I scratched my head and then said, “May be muffins or cakes from Baker’s street counter in the airport.” He asked me, “Do you like blueberries?” I told him, “Yes, yes..I love them.” Suddenly work deadlines felt like desserts.
On his way home from the airport, he stopped at my place to give me the muffins. The blueberry muffins looked lip-smacking even inside the packet. It was a quiet morning today at home. Sitting in the living room, I could feel the slightly cool spring breeze on my face. The day was yet to unfold. The madness of another tough work day was yet to day to my office desk. There was only a kind of beautiful stillness and a blueberry muffin on my plate. I savored it slowly and soaked in the happiness that only a muffin can give you in a beautiful February morning.
You don’t have to be a millionaire to feel happy. Or do you? I know one thing, for sure. You need friends who make you feel like a millionaire and think of you even when they are travelling and take the effort to bring you something you love. These are the moments when I can feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude in my heart.
A muffin moment of truth: I grew up in coastal Orissa without ever biting into a blueberry. How much my plate has changed over the years? But right now, it’s the lingering taste of the muffin that counts.