On Mild Injuries and Making Toast
There is an art to getting injured.
One just doesn’t come across opportunities to fall flat on their face out of nowhere. And skip a visit to the hospital. It takes a bit of bad luck, some mindlessness and a great deal of patience to have a penchant for mild injuries. As I said, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea.
Ever since I was young, I don’t remember a week where I survived unscathed. By the time I was an adult, I was sure the universe had a plan against me. After all, no one else got slight burns from making instant noodles or bruised their knees on the roads of Central Delhi.
I have learnt to live with it. Notice I say I’m not grateful about it or think it has a pleasant charm. It doesn’t. Some things are just that––an inconvenience.
No matter how hard you try to accept them within your lives, to put a positive spin on them to change how, they make you feel. You’ll still be an outlier, staring at your life from a distance, and watch as you once again break a cup of glass. You might have felt hopeful.
Only it’s your toe that gets butchered in the process, so you’re not.
I will not take out lessons from these injuries but fears. Fear of every tiny insect ever since a wasp bit my foot when I was nine. Fear of falling down the bed, the stairs, you name it. It takes so much to continue walking. I haven’t made it to running yet. Maybe someday.
Toasts: An Antidote
Like there are fears, there are comforts too. Toasts are one of them.
Yes, I have burnt an odd finger while making toast. It doesn’t take much away from the blissfulness of it. Toasts can be a fix better than bandages or painkillers if you know how to do them right. The right amount of butter will cure your heartbreaks, let alone your inflamed elbow.
Cheese for toast is like seasoning for pizza. It can’t ever do any harm. Embrace it with enthusiasm, and it shall reward you in wonderous ways.
Yes, I am very passionate about the food I eat. It’s one of the joys I haven’t tainted with the miseries of my adult life. I dare not take it for granted.
Today was more complicated than most days, injury-wise. I cut my finger on plastic, tripped while getting out of a cab, and, yes, burned my finger while making toast. But the mere act of making something from your own hands can be such magic, even if it is just a toast. I don’t take this for granted either.
It’s funny to think that a piece of bread is the only reason I am not sulking, engulfed in my blanket. Bread can make a good friend when you don’t let it get burnt. Much like how all friendships work. Time, adequate time.
There are endless reasons to be sad tonight. But I made something today. I made toast. It is enough to keep trying for now.