Boiled Eggs, Coping Mechanisms & Angulimal

I’ve had way too much natto or fermented, gut-friendly beans and kimchi today, trying to somehow counter the effects of having consumed way too much dairy (Context: I’m slightly lactose intolerant). I’m pretty sure this is not how damage control works so I should just own up to my self-sabotaging and be careful next time. This is reminiscent of me trying to act like I genuinely enjoy a cup of green tea with my paav bhaji. A hoax. An infidelity. An inconceivable lie. I hope to God I can take care of my health effectively enough to be able to enjoy extra makkhan paav bhaaji with Coca Cola once in a while.

Out of the many things that won my heart today, I think I’m most grateful for my friend staying on call as I tried to take care of a spider situation in my home. Truly, this is an exemplifying instance of the myriad joys of being a young, independent woman: strong in the face of the world, weak in the face of creepy crawlies. In my defense, I haven’t been ably to get this Fady Joudah poem out of my mind ever since I first read it: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/56351/mimesis

I’ve decided to just let Mister Spider be where he is for now. He’s woven a web right at my door, and perhaps I could use a piece of paper to dismantle his apparatus and gently show him out but I’m a little afraid (read: petrified; scared out of my wits; one look away from weeping). Anyhow, it only makes its appearance in the night so we don’t have to cross each other’s paths too often. Besides, turns out there’s no poisonous spiders in Japan, so at least this isn’t a death threat. Lucky me. Mister Spider can enjoy his moonlit nights.

In other marvels, I managed to make boiled eggs this morning! What a miracle. Trust me, I can make the best anda bhurji with chai and have a flair for cheese omelettes, but I cannot, for the life of me, make simple boiled eggs. And even if by some stroke of fortune I manage to boil them, I struggle so much with peeling them properly. I’m reminded of a poem I wrote on love and eggs many years ago:

i think love and eggs are undeniably similar,

easily cracked open,

can be readied in more ways than they teach on shows,

always made to seem fancier in cookbooks and movies,

too easily overcooked or over-whipped,too easily burnt,universal but universally complex, and although achievable, the right consistency will always be a mystery.

But boiled eggs are simple and teach me that maybe things aren’t always as complex as we make them out to be.

I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately, and I keep telling myself it’s going to be okay. I was voice-noteing a friend from LSR yesterday and it was an emotional exchange; she reminded me of how I had a panic attack in the middle of the night six years ago and went to her room shivering, and she just gently kept stroking my hair till I felt safe and went to sleep. In Hindi, we say sir pe haath pherna for lovingly stroking someone’s head. I love how endearing that phrase is. To me, sir pe haath pherna is one of the simplest, kindest acts of love. It reminds me of how when I used to stay in Noida, my dadu would tell me the same story every night featuring the Buddhist legend of Angulimal (https://angulimala.org.uk/the-story-of-angulimala/) and sing to me later: gaayi gaayi, chhote munne ko ninnu aayi…

Do read the story shared via the link if you can, but I'll share the moral of this lovely little tale here (also taken from the same link): The story of Angulimala teaches us that the possibility of Enlightenment may be awakened in the most extreme of circumstances, that people can and do change.