The Fork, The Knife and The Spoon.

Life is like food. The more flavour you add to it, the better it tastes. Whether life is spicy, salty or sweet, it’s a mix of it all. Sometimes you need the sweet to balance out the bitter, and the spicy to bring out the zing. And just like food, in life, you could get chewed and spit out or simply add value to someone’s well-being. They say that food tastes better when it’s shared with the people you love. It’s exactly the same with life. It’s worth living when you share it with those who you love. 

Sometimes it’s fast food, sometimes it’s gourmet and sometimes it comes in a box. Thats the package all of life’s events come in. At times you just have to get things over and done with because, let’s face it, time is always of the essence and these days, everyone is in a rush. But, there are days when you just want to slow down. You simply want to stop and smell the roses. When you just want to savour the moment and enjoy every minute, just like gourmet. If we’re taking things out of a box, then you just know that it’s easier to prepare but there are instructions to follow. 

So in order to enjoy it all, most of the time you’ll need a fork to hold, a knife to cut and a spoon to pick up your food. Metaphorically speaking, it’s the same thing you’ll come across in life too. A fork in the road of life. It’s all about making decisions. We’re constantly making decisions and the most difficult task we have is to stick with the decisions we’ve made. In the last few months. I’ve been stuck at a career crossroads, a fork in the road that I was waiting at for the longest time. However, I didn’t realise it until just a few days ago. Taking a sabbatical from work, I discovered that there is a world of opportunity and it’s time to explore. Suddenly, I had a breakthrough thanks to a friend of mine and now I’m taking the path that I think will add more value to my professional life, thus, increasing the nutritional value for my mind. 

The knife, though the perfect choice for cutting a slice of life, may not always be useful. It could be the fact that we are stabbed by someone or the other, especially someone you care about, at some point in life. If revenge is a dish served cold, then betrayal needs a knife. It hurts even more so when you’re being stabbed in the chest with a blunt knife. Yes, it might not always be sharp. The blunt ones hurt the most. It’s not so easy to cut through and the feeling of it slowly piercing into you seems to last forever. 

Now we’re left with a spoon. I’d like to use it to add a dash of sweet nothings into this big dish of a life that includes a lot of love. Perhaps use it to stir in the essential ingredients that I need in life and, to taste it and see what’s missing or the flavours can be added and how I can make it better. 

This last week I was served a fork, a knife and a spoon. I somehow figured out a way to use them and discover their true meaning. It’s quite simple really, life is a lot more interesting when we have the right people to support us and interestingly, the right people to get us through it all. Just like the right cutlery to help us enjoy every delicious bite. 

 

Hunger is the name of the game.

I’m not doing much these days, so the closest I get to doing anything at all these days is spending time on the internet scavenging for the some scandalous juicy gossip to keep me occupied. Most of the time I’ll share my opinion with the friend I’m staying with and we’ll relentlessly have a go at it. After all, we think that our opinion matters the most at this point in our lives.

So today, began my search on the internet today and as one link led to another, I came across an interesting yet disturbing on the BBC website. http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-21636723

It’s mostly about the hunger issue in America. I was quite surprised to read it. It’s definitely quite shocking to say the least. Perhaps it’s strange to see that this is happening in a country that seems to have everything going. (they’d like the rest of the world to think so). Especially, where you watch tv shows where there is a phenomenal amount of food wastage being showcased and it’s supposed to be funny. Plus, food portions are huge, fit for two and all of it goes to waste.

I don’t mean to offend anyone’s sentiments here but there are starving kids in a country where there is no shortage or supply no drought or no famine, it’s shocking to say the least. These are hunger games of a different kind and the rules are different. And, the little ones can’t even ask for seconds.

Pretence with a capital P

My line of work involves a lot of things. Proof reading, spell checking, amongst other things. All shall be revealed in good time.

So, the other day, I was given an interesting task to do. To write someone’s journey to success. Most times, I’m supposed to not be judgemental about these things and just write with an open mind. But this job didn’t require me to start from scratch, on a blank sheet of  paper. No, no, no. I had to re-write it. I accepted the job request with much excitement.

As I began to read through the current story. I was getting more and more turned off by the person. To think of how self-centered we have become. With social networking sites and other such things, we think that the whole world wants to read our so-called “epic life story”. For all those people who pose a tad too much for pictures and love to document every moment of their life online especially using vusual cues, I’m sorry to tell you that no one really gives rat’s ass. To think that every thing you do is so important to the world well you must know that doing that has an opposite effect of what you hope would be your 15 minutes of fame. Oh well, I’m digressing.

Before I began to re-write the article, I decided to write one on my own. Some people might think that it is mean. But I think it’s fall-off-your-chair funny. Here goes:

The Riches to Rags Story

If there was a term that would be perfect to describe me, it would be this – pompous douche bag.

Basically, all I did was go to the UK because, well, let’s face it, I was a spoilt brat. And I didn’t even go to college. I spent all my time and allowance on partying in the very first month. My parents found out and they got really mad this time. All of a sudden they weren’t cool anymore. So they stopped sending me any money. So I HAD to take up odd jobs. I was still in university and couldn’t work more than 20 hours a week on a student visa. I didn’t have too many skills and was unqualified for most jobs, so I got a job working at a construction site and later on I started cleaning public toilets.

Somehow, in a country like the UK which is very strict with its visas amongst other things, I managed to work full-time. I was able to skip all legal procedures – unqualified – on a student’s visa – able to work full-time now. Yes, my story is full of loop holes that the only reason why I’m writing this and displaying it in all my stores is because I’m getting so badly sued by people right now that I might have no money later on and I’d like a Bollywood producer to walk any store, read my story and offer to buy the rights to the story for a film.

Oh well, back to my story. One fine day while cleaning bathrooms, I finally found myself staring at shit. That’s when it hit me. Why not start a business somehow? And where else than at the Borough Market? It’ll work for me because I don’t need a licence or to follow any legal procedures or face questions from the Home Office. And of course it failed because. I tried selling bhel puri and corn to white people. I don’t even know how to make tea!

That didn’t work either. I had run out of ideas by then. One day while eating 2 pound noodles that were being sold at the Borough Market, a fantastic idea dawned on me. Why not sell Chinese goods to white people? They’re definitely better than desi products for sure. So that’s what I decided to do. Sell Chinese products. Yes, I still managed to get an import licence. Or maybe not, I’m, still not sure.  The good news was that I was able to make money and loads of it. And how did I celebrate? I went back to the restaurant where I used to clean toilets just to tip them 20 pounds. I’m so generous right?

So it had been 4 years in the UK and I guess by then the Home Office was aware of what I was up to. They asked me to leave and just as well, I was missing home anyway. I was back in India before I knew it and again I decided to take up some sure-failing business ventures. That’s just how I roll. Somehow, for some reason, I was offered to take over Crap-P. I can’t really tell you the real story – not juicy enough. Everyone I knew thought it was not a good idea but I still went ahead and did it anyway. I do what I want, whenever I want. Surprisingly, it turns out that I do have principles. Yeah I was shocked too! Well must’ve been because I left the 20 quid tip at that restaurant. The beginning of the takeover was not hunky dory but in the end it worked out. The world does love me, you see.

My country is eternally grateful to me because I will turn Crap-p into Starbucks (not sure if I’m allowed to use this name here, but what’s one more law suit?). And soon, the world, just like you, will read this story. In the next three years you will see me walking down the red carpet at the Kodak theatre as the inspiration behind movie of the year. Danny Boyle, are you listening?

Thanks for reading and waiting in line. You can now place your order.

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Yes, this is indeed how important and how life changing people think their stories are.  Acquiring a business did not change anyone’s life in any way. This douche bag didn’t even create the product. So, really, who cares if you cleaned bathrooms and dropped out of college? Jeez