Gulab Jamuns

I look with awe at passionate people.

People who can look at the sky during a sunset like they painted it there.

People who can gracefully dance not having to strain to memorise the moves.

People who can sing like the song comes from the heart and not from the throat.

I have always wanted to be deeply passionate in life, but never felt myself anything that held my attention for too long.

Until one day in a restaurant while waiting for my aunt to finish her dessert, I realised I always had a way of eating Gulab Jamuns and wondered why I never gave it a thought previously.

One Gulab Jamun would always be a disappointment.

Three is too much for someone who is not a big fan of Jamun.

Two is just the apt number.

A slice of pista on top is a fortune.

A flavour of elachi is a sin.

I would slice it open in the center with a spoon and scoop half of it into the spoon before the sweet syrup could flood into the split created. The half-cut jamun on the spoon would be partially dry and partially soaked, just enough to balace flowing sweet sugar and soft plain dough.

I would bathe the other half in the sweet syrup, wait for it to absorb as much syrup as possible, and slowly lift it to my mouth and enjoy the sweetness on my tongue as long as I could.

I realised even on a busy day I would never gulp it in a go and even with just one jamun in hand, I would never eat it in small pieces.

To me, Jamun is always eaten in halves.

In my way of eating Jamuns I see my habit.

In my habit, I see my style.

And in my style, I see my passion.

We are all passionate after all,

If not with sunsets and beaches,

Probably with the Gulab Jamuns.