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the butterfly kiss...

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Sitting on the cold and damp ground she hugged the tombstone tight... tighter than the lump in her throat.  Tears streamed down her face, a face lined with fatigue and sorrow, deep , heart wrenching sorrow. The butter flies flew all over her, some sat on her face , even on her lips, they were beautiful, of myriad colours and they were all happy and soft.  They were always happy as she was their keeper, the small patch of kitchen garden in her backyard got converted into a heaven for butterflies, neither he, nor her or the butterflies realised the transformation, they were all caught up in the beauty of those beautiful flowers blooming all around which in turn had the butterflies multiplying on the mulberry tree and the small green apple tree with it's branches full of heady apple blossoms. A huge drop of rain awakened her, she was still clinging to the tombstone, cold and hard, feelingless and nothing like the warm, funny and laughing Tom she knew... the butterflie...
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In search of the prefect 'Yeast'..... post no. 2

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Apart from the blogathon that I have jumped into there is another very important issue (!) which has been circling inside my head for long and hold your breath, it is about getting hold of a good yeast (!!) So that I can venture into bread baking..which I had been longing to do  for so long.   This search for a good yeast has been going on for so long that I have tried at least 4 to 5 types of yeast till now, I brought a pack from kerala store in Delhi,  then when I went to Kerala I brought two packs from a bakery thinking that the kind of stuff they have at their shop, definitely they must be selling  good yeast and was excited about trying it out.. then I brought packs from different bakeries in  Delhi.. to cut a long story short... none.. yes... NONE of the yeast ever worked.  During this Diwali I wanted to bake cinnamon rolls  and started imagining the joy of my children when they will be eating the perfect, melt in mouth cinnamon rol...
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A poignant question

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The day before yesterday my daughter was quite excited , she was one of the selected few of her class who were being taken by the school to visit an old age home. She made a handmade card , got us buy eatables for all the naanis and daadis she was going to meet, she even wanted me to cook halwa for them, but since this idea dawned on her in the morning when there was only 10 minutes left for the school bus to arrive we could not do anything about it, she also had plans to buy a few saris for them and so on… I was quite happy to see that my daughter actually looked forward to this and wanted to really spend time with the old age home naanis, may be it’s all the good effect of being with her grandparents during the day,  I thought.  In the afternoon I gave a call to her, as usual, to ask her how was the day, what did she do at school etc.( for that day at the old age home),  from the other side the voice that came was quite a sad one, all the enthusiasm...
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