Al dente : Part 4

She burst into a chuckle. “Shivani… Shivani Dey.” She said, extending her hand towards the chef.
“It is very nice to meet you Shivani”, chef held her hand and shook it firmly.
“My name is Joe, and as you can see, I’m the chef here.” He said, flashing his teeth out.
“So, what were you saying, about helping me?” Shivani asked, this time.
“No offense intended, Chef Joe, but I find it hard to believe that you know about writing so much, that you can inspire me!” Shivani said. Now she was in the game. And she was, not at all, intimidated by Joe.

“Yes, Yes. Signora. Though I know a little about that stuff but I can help you with your writing. I know food, and you, believe it or not, good food and good stories, have more in common than you and me.” He said, in the same old, ridiculously charming way.

Shivani couldn’t resist but smile all along. If she listened carefully, all he was saying were gibberish. But to her that tiny decorous room, his contagious positive vibe, everything made sense. She knew, even if whatever he was saying was completely meaningless, it was meaningful to him, and hence, worth listening.

He continued. “You know I wasn’t a chef all along.  I was a banker. I had a really well-paying job in USA. I was staying in Silicon Valley. My life was perfect, in a materialistic way. But I wanted something more out of my job, rather than money. I wanted satisfaction. I wanted to feel the pride of creating something and bringing happiness on people’s face. And numbers couldn’t satisfy my needs. So I had to leave the job. And I had this knack for cooking since I was young. So I joined a restaurant, as a line chef. Then I was promoted to sous chef, and then finally I joined this one as an executive chef. And now, I enjoy what I do. I see people smiling when they have a bite of my food, and then I know that I’m happy with what I’m doing right now.” Joe said looking at Shivani, who was lost in his food, with a smile on her face.

She looked up, mesmerized. “Everyone dreams to do what you did. But not many can actually do it: to quit a job, and pursue your passion.”
“Why not? That’s my point? Why can’t they? What are they afraid of? Acceptance in the society? First you need to accept yourself, then the society will. Else you’ll be just a lost stone in the desert of a rat race.”  His face turned pinkish red.
Shivani already finished her egg, and now she devoured herself into the hot chocolate. She looked up from her plate to ask- “So what were you saying? Something stories and food…?”

“Ohh yeah. I’m sorry. I have this bad habit of drifting away from the topic.” He chuckled.

“See, good food and a good story is somehow similar. Let me give you an example. Let’s take pasta for an example. You like pasta right?” Joe asked.
“Of course, who, in Italy doesn’t like pasta?” Shavani said.

“Great. So, you see, there are different types of pasta: Tortellini, Penne, Farfalle, Spaghetti and many more. Each and every pasta has different taste and different preparations. In the same way, there are different types of stories. Mystery, Romantic, Science-fiction, and whatnot.” He said. Excitement was oozing out of his eyes.

“And for each story, there should be distinctive types of characters. Likewise, for every pasta dish, there are different ingredients.” He smiled.

“You see, but what brings together the pasta is the sauce. And what brings together a story is the emotions that are attached with the words.” His eyes sparkled as he spoke.

Shivani finished her drink and was now submerged into thoughts. What he was explaining was making her think of her story from a very unusual and ‘delicious’ point of view.

“I’ve been working as a chef for a long time now. And you see, the secret of making a pasta is in the making of the actual pasta. You let it boil first, and when you see the pasta floating in the bubbling water, you take them out.
We have a phrase in our profession. ‘Al dente’. It denotes the cook on the pasta. When a pasta is perfectly cooked, to the point of perfection, it is said to be al dente. Now, I can’t relate this to storytelling, but maybe you can” He flashed the same old charming smile.

That morning was like any other mornings in Rome. As divine as any other. The people were as jolly as ever. The unstoppable cold-war, between modernity and heritage, was as evident as any other day. And Shivani, well it was like any other morning until she met the chef of a nameless restaurant in the streets of Rome. But that morning, finally she met someone, with whom, she could talk for hours. For the first time since she stepped onto the soil of Italy, she wasn’t missing her home. Instead she was glad, that she could step out and see the world, all by herself. She met someone who knew the true meaning of passion. And maybe she’ll miss another deadline, but she knew, whatever she writes, she will write with all her heart. And as far as her ‘own’ story is concerned; well, thanks to a proficient chef, it will be ‘Al dente’.

Source : here.

P.S.- You can read the previous parts of the story :

• "Al dente : Part 1" from here.
• "Al dente : Part 2" from here.
• "Al dente : Part 3" from here.

Author's Note :  I am overjoyed to see the responses to my posts. So here's something new and exciting for the readers. 'Al Dente' is a series. I'll be posting it part by part. Drop in your comments to encourage this new endeavor. Thanks in advance. Keep supporting. :) 

A letter to maa.

Dear maa,

Like any other adult, I don't remember much of my childhood. Just bits and pieces. Scratches of memories, both bitter and sweet. But among all those experiences, I can't remember a time when you weren't around. You were always there with me. You pushed me when I needed that extra motivation. You were my anchor at times when I couldn't control myself. Teenage is a very crucial and critical time for any individual, but with you by my side, it seemed like a cakewalk. You were a friend to me, a supporter and a guide, when needed. And with these little moments of happiness, and tiny tokens of love, I grew up with a lot of morals and values. And to be very frank, you are one of the most honest human being, I  have ever come across.
There were several moments and incidents when you proved your impeccable honesty. And especially, I remember that one time. I was little, studying in class four or five. I had just come back from school. It was a holiday season, and our distant aunt, from Delhi, had come to visit us with her family, unannounced. The house was a mess. You were running around from one corner of the kitchen to the other. Though the maid was helping you, but preparing a sudden meal, for an entire family at such an ungodly hour is not an easy task. But you still manage to hang a smile on your face. You fixed me a quick meal, and I was busy with the TV.
Just then, I heard a beeping sound. It was the fire alarm! The kitchen was on fire. And you were stuck. I came running, only to find out that flames had devoured the entrance of the kitchen. I was frightened, and helpless.
Though you were saved, but you had suffered second-degree burns. And upon asking, you could have easily put the blame on the maid. But what did you do?
You accepted and took all the responsibility. The embarrassment and the defamation came with it was uncalled for. You could have easily avoided the condemnation, but no, you faced everything with an apologetic face.
That day, I learnt a very important lesson of life. You taught me the value of honesty. Without honestly a human cannot live with dignity and pride. You inspire me maa. You always have been, and you always will be.

                                                                                                          With love,
                                                                                                                 Your son.

“I am writing a letter about how a mother teaches honesty to her child with the Max Life Insurance i-genius #YoursHonestly activity in association with BlogAdda.”

Image Source: here.