Yesterday my better half wanted to try her hand at Biriyani. As a supportive husband that I am, I encouraged her. We sat down to prepare a list of all that was required to make this a big success. We went to the market and bought everything on the list. We also discussed a great deal on the presentation of the Biriyani as well as the shape and size of vegetables that needs to be chopped in a particular way, the garnishing etc.
After much discussion, we finally settled down with delight on how the plan will be executed the following day. I went to bed in much anticipation of the Biriyani that was going to be prepared. I wanted to pack them for lunch as well and flaunt it to my lunch mates at work.
The day dawned, I woke up a bit late. My wife's enthusiasm for preparing the Briyani got better of her. She woke herself up early and got straight down to the execution of our previous days plan. By the time I got freshened up, I could smell the aroma. That awesome aroma, soothed my sense of smell, and made my mouth watery. I struggled to contain myself. I went into the kitchen and was eagerly peeping over her shoulder to see what she was doing. Everything looked according to the plan and that gave me the confidence that the Biriyani would just come out awesome. The thought of how my lunch mates would react to this awesome aroma and how they couldn't keep their hands of my lunch box occurred to me. I was swelling with pride.
The cooking was done. My wife presented the Biriyani to me in exactly the same way as per plan. I couldn't wait to grab a spoon and stuff myself with the delicacy. The moment I held it closer to the mouth, my nose wanted to detach itself from my face and do the dance of joy. My tongue wanted to lick the plate off of the last grain of rice. My eyes knew no bounds of joy. A perfect sensual experience. What a perfect way to start the day with, so it felt!
The moment I put the spoon in my mouth and had the first chew, my tongue tied, my ears blocked, nose ran and the tears poured from my eyes. Was it ecstasy, I thought. NO. Because it was extra spicy. A double dose of more than sufficient Masala(mix of spices). I wanted to scream my heart out. This was the only thing that didn't seem to work according to the plan. My wife was sitting across the table, with a smile on her face waiting to hear the delightful words of appreciation. I felt like the lab rat, but all I could do was lift my hand up and do the OK gesture with a wink. I couldn't muster the courage to tell the truth. I dared myself to empty the plate and be done with, but as I was finishing it, there she was holding another serving of the infamous Biriyani, smiling all along, with eyes wide open.
What happened next, I will leave it for your imagination.
This dish I particularly like to call it as "Majbooriyani" - Majboori me khaayi Biriyani or "The Compelling Biriyani" - Biriyani eaten in Compulsion.
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