Yer ur busted.

“Wow, Auntie Sammy has outdone herself” … the lilting voiced Leela seemed to say.

Well, what now?

“Andy she has written for Nostalgia”

“So what I have written for the magazine Back To The Future

“You idiot, she has written about the adventure she and your mom had, they tried to bake a cake.”

“So what lot of people do?”

“Well they did it illegally”

“what do you mean” Andy had visions of his mom and aunt breaking into the neighbourhood grocery store to steal the ingredients.

“Grandma had not given them permission.. You Savvy?”


“the prognosis was they could not sit for the next week.”

“OOH! We learn from history, I bet we can bake a cake and auntie would be clueless.”

Andy was sceptic but he did not want to pass up a chance to impress the lilting voiced Leela, out came the laptop, the template for baking a cake. After a lengthy debate, and quick look at the ingredients available the kids settled for eggless, vanilla cake.

“You need Maida, Lee and not roti-wallah flour”

“You mean they are different, ”

“of course, “Andy could see the appreciation in Lee’s eyes,  with his superior knowledge being recognized they zipped through the cake baking quite quickly.

Sifting the flour with baking powder, adding in the butter and sugar.

Three drops of vanilla.

Milk and vinegar and they prestige hand mixer helped to bring it to a smooth paste.

The idli tray was greased and the batter poured in, and mixture was baked at 175degrees for half an hour, while cake baked, the other kids got chips, and coke and the impromptu party took place. Andy never felt more thrilled.

You know those days when you have had unexpected joys bestowed on you like an cool party at home, and the Lilting voice Lee batting her eye at you, one does feel blessed and one can also anticipate the dull ache on the Butt from distant memories, without wanting to trigger a what with the handbag from mom, Andy started the cleaning procedure,

he brought in extra flour to replace the used flour, vanilla essence didn’t matter, baking powder mom would not notice, sugar replenished from the main stock, butter again mom would not notice as she does not eat butter, vinegar went right back to its place. Hand mixer washed and its slot on the wall.

Plates washed and returned to its places, the chips packets and cola cans right into the trash…Andy congratulated  himself on his foresight for he actually took the dry trash to the main bin so awkward questions would not be asked.

Vacuuming the living rooms and tidying the books, after all a gang of half a dozen of teenagers does get rowdy.

Done and dusted,

With a besotted smile Andy snuggled into his bed, he knew that Lee was sufficiently impressed, in his dream  she had decided to go out with him, “Not because you bake like a dream, but you were ingenious enough to fool your mom.”

Yup his mother was a star at the mom’s college though she did not dole out the standard stuff, she didn’t need a good stare did it all.

Just as he was about to present Lilting voice Leela the rose, “Whack”

He wondered if the chair hit him when he knelt to give the rose, but when opened his eyes, it was his mom, nostrils flaring, deep breathing,

“Where is the cake?”

“Cake what cake!!”

“the one that you baked here,”

“How did you know” he stammered, he didn’t even consider stout denial, there was something about lean mom brandishing a handbag that the truth would blurt out as if having a power of its own,

The stare just continued,

“Sneaky Sid,”

“No, go on”

“Snitch Sheila…No…well I give up”

He had to know, so he tried again,”I think mom, it only fair that you prove that I did it,”

“well” sighed his mom, “You confessed on the first whack, but the too clean a kitchen and hall, and lingering fragrance of Vanilla, they were the clues my son, You should have opened the window the smell would have diluted.”

Well with a super-sleuth for a mom, it’s done and dusted it is done and busted!!

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Adventure Takes the cake

Early years of my life were in a joint family then we shifted to a medical college campus which was extended family. Manipal more or less still works on the same principle. Everyone knows everyone still worse anyone’s business is everyone’s business. Privacy was an unheard of word except in the dictionary. Mind you all in the guise of being concerned well wishers.

It is not really as bad as I make it out we had great adventures sometimes I wish these kids could have an adventure like that. Stealing mangoes, swimming in the river when parents were napping, peeking to the “adult books” were minor thrills.  There were slightly more injurious ones little setting the crackers off at Rama teacher’s class, or running the tape recorder at M.R.Bhat class this were a little more risky as it meant if we were caught then sitting down with pain would a matter of history.

There were also some community learning which we had, like one day we decided to bake a cake… I think we started off with marble cake and then shifted to sponge cake and eventually we were willing to settle for whatever emerged. Now baking a cake was a delicate operation as it meant there would be hovering eye of the cook, or the mother even if did circumvent these hurdles there was the maid next door and the auntie across the road all lurking as potential threats.

But when we only had to take a decision and universe would deliver it, Nirmala’s house was the last one in the enclave, she had no neighbours, the auntie in front was recluse, and the maid in her house was a willing accomplice and this particular instance she was out of town, oh! Yes her mother was a gynaecologist that meant she was busy too. Somehow we did not consider the Fathers as threat.

Anyway we got the recipe down, we were to use 2 cups of flour if I am not mistaken we did pick up the two cups, recipe said all purpose flour, and this was the flour that Nirmala’s cook Rajamma used to make chapatti’s, puries  and she also dumped into the dosa batter if the batter got too thin, so we knew we were on the right track.

Then there was egg to be added 3- egg whites to whisk. We cracked the eggs which all over expertise that we were cracking the eggs for the first time, we managed to spread the egg in uniform quantity into the mixing bowl, the kitchen platform and the floor, now came the sugar, we ran out sugar so we decided to add Jaggery, the baking powder had to be added and the recipe said 1 ½ tsp. We looked around and found this nice clean spoon which was quite okay, as it was the soup spoon… we added 1 and a ½ teaspoon of the baking powder we had forgotten to pre heat the oven so we decided we will leave the cake in the oven and let cook for twenty minutes longer.

Just as we were jubilantly taking out the cake which was still beautifully three layered, brown, charred on top, the crisp edible middle and gooey, uncooked centre, still with all excitement we were on the verge of checking out, and the door bell buzzed, in walked Rajamma, one look at the kitchen our rear end had the forbearing of a future where there was would gross inability to sit on a surface that had no cushion.

Our offence other than messing up the kitchen, well, we had used up the wheat flour and not Maida… the wheat flour incidentally salted. The egg had not only got on the floor, and kitchen platform it had also invaded the jaggery container. The oven well it had become so involved with the cake baking that it burnt itself in the process not to mention the three days worth of dishwashing that we had created.

Fortunately our rear end was not abused, but we were made to take baking classes for the next three months every Saturday at Auntie Amla’s house…Auntie Amla by the way is the inspiration for Miss Sourface.

this post is a part of the write over weekend intiative for indian bloggers by BlogAdda.