One look at the Dal and Ramesh knew that it was not cooked properly. The colour was just not right; it was too yellow for his liking. Few people in the world knew about Dal better than Ramesh, he was what you would call an expert in the subject.
For the average person, Dal is a simple Indian cuisine, a straightforward dish that anyone can churn up from their kitchen. However, there are numerous delicate intricacies that can affect the final outcome of the dish. And Ramesh certainly knew how to turn up a tasty bowl of Dal.
His “Tandoori Dal” would run out every evening and people would turn away from the doorstep, dejected. Every night, when he would sleep near the tandoor, he would smile and remember the lavish praise that his creation had generated.
The murmur of people around snapped him out of his daydreams. Ramesh looked to his side and watched families sitting by the roadside, devouring the lacklustre palate of Rice and Dal with glee. It was a stark contrast to the long line of people thronging at the restaurant where he used to work as a cook.
The sudden spread of the Coronavirus had snatched away his dreams and aspirations, but had hit his reality the hardest. The kitchen that he had called his home for years was off limits in an instant. With all restaurants closed due to the lockdown, he was suddenly homeless, without a penny in his pocket, hovering around on an empty stomach.
"Sir, would you like some more Dal?"
"Yes, please"
Ramesh watched as the volunteer poured the yellow Dal on his paper plate. The aroma betrayed the pale look of the dish and churned up the long suppressed hunger within him. Seeing a plate of food in front of him for the first time in two days made his eyes moist. Ramesh wiped his tears, mixed the Rice with the Dal and put a morsel in his mouth. It was the most beautiful Dal he had ever tasted.
For the average person, Dal is a simple Indian cuisine, a straightforward dish that anyone can churn up from their kitchen. However, there are numerous delicate intricacies that can affect the final outcome of the dish. And Ramesh certainly knew how to turn up a tasty bowl of Dal.
His “Tandoori Dal” would run out every evening and people would turn away from the doorstep, dejected. Every night, when he would sleep near the tandoor, he would smile and remember the lavish praise that his creation had generated.
The murmur of people around snapped him out of his daydreams. Ramesh looked to his side and watched families sitting by the roadside, devouring the lacklustre palate of Rice and Dal with glee. It was a stark contrast to the long line of people thronging at the restaurant where he used to work as a cook.
The sudden spread of the Coronavirus had snatched away his dreams and aspirations, but had hit his reality the hardest. The kitchen that he had called his home for years was off limits in an instant. With all restaurants closed due to the lockdown, he was suddenly homeless, without a penny in his pocket, hovering around on an empty stomach.
"Sir, would you like some more Dal?"
"Yes, please"
Ramesh watched as the volunteer poured the yellow Dal on his paper plate. The aroma betrayed the pale look of the dish and churned up the long suppressed hunger within him. Seeing a plate of food in front of him for the first time in two days made his eyes moist. Ramesh wiped his tears, mixed the Rice with the Dal and put a morsel in his mouth. It was the most beautiful Dal he had ever tasted.
