Yet another lazy Sunday morning.
I idle around the house. Aimlessly.
Fuss around with the crossword.
Unpack the cartons of books purchased at the book fair. Make a mental list of the sequence in which I shall attack the books. I just cannot wait to get going.
Joan Baez croons the iconic Bangladesh in the background. What a voice !!!!. She now moves over to her Prison Trilogy. I hum along.
I fidget around with my CDs. Looking for the next CD I want to play.
The teapot sings on the stove. What’s a Sunday without those endless cups of Darjeeling !!
I snuggle up on my couch now.
Open the window.
Stare listlessly at the pastel-blue sky.
The red-crested bulbuls toiling away industriously at a nest in my neighbour’s garden.
The butterflies playfully flitting around the oleander in gorgeous bloom.
The uninhibited explosion of reds and fuchsias on the geranium vines.
The pristine buds on my jasmine.
Don Williams’ bass-baritone voice has taken over center-stage now.
Time to whip up a quick lunch.
Has to be a chicken curry, isnt it ? How can be a Sunday ever be complete without a chicken curry ?
But not the regular Robibarer Murgir Jhol today, I yearn for something tear-jerking spicy this morning.
So a kosha murgi it is for lunch this languorous afternoon.
Succulent chicken legs. Sinfully caramelised onion. The perfume of ginger. Just a hint of green cardamom. Redolent of the streets of Kolkata.
If kosha murgi is not addictive, what is ?
Kosha Murgi. Succulent chicken. Sinfully caramelised onion. The perfume of ginger. Just a hint of cardamom. Redolent of the streets of Kolkata. Enjoy !!!