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NANDINI N MENON
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NANDINI N MENON
THE TASTE OF CONSCIENTIOUSNESS
taste is all in the effort
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Childhood is always the best part of man’s life. It is equidistant from the end of the beginning and the beginning of end. It always starts off with a crayon scribble, a high five and goes on to a sideways smile and a sweet glance. I hope I can narrate this piece of experience, taken from the depths of a long lost memory, effectively. My residence is located in the midst of a beautiful village. Even though we’ve got plenty of ponds, lakes and paddy fields, I’ve never got an opportunity to fish and this fact has always made me restless and a silent onlooker towards the various fishing endeavors of my friends and neighbors.However,one day, my uncle, who’s always into all mundane affairs, relenting to our constant pleas, agreed to take us for a fishing trip the very next day. That night passed with me and my sister planning extensively for the next day’s venture. The next day, after breakfast, the trawling trios, as we call ourselves, started off, with the hunt  for earthworms, a favorite commodity among the fish community. It was not at all pleasant, because it was a slimy creature and slipped off our hands every time one of us caught it. After a decade(or so it felt!!) of prolonged and dedicated work, our uncle managed to catch three earthworms. Me and my sister sat open mouthed when we saw our uncle slicing the earthworm into pieces. It  dawned upon me only much later about the tarnished and cruel work behind each piece of fish or any other animal, for that matter, that we devour, sitting in the comfort of our home. Till then, my only association with animals was at the dinning table.Well,with that task over,we had to make hooks for the fishing line.It was not a matter of concern because my uncle was an expert in making fishing lines. Within no time, we’d nailed it and each one of us was in possession of a modest fishing line bringing out the tale of uncle’s skilled hands.The next task in line was to select a suitable lake.We’d plenty of lakes but only a few with fishes.After a few moments of deliberations,my uncle directed us to the one behind our house and like a school of fish we trotted towards the lake.Within no time,we’d immersed the hook completely into the lake and sat on its bank like professionals.We waited and waited…But nothing happened.I observed the surface of water closely but couldn’t distinguish anything.The water was clear and undisturbed.Not even  a leaf moved.Suddenly,we saw bubbles of water crowding around my sister’s line and my uncle yelled,”Raise!!”. Flabbergasted,she raised the line and we saw a beautiful stripped murrel.We were astonished but my uncle calmly unhooked the fish and laid it into a pot which we had brought.My uncle then prepared another line for my sister and we resumed. But we were too fast paced for fishing because the fish jumped back into the lake the second it was placed. We reminisced the old Malayalam proverb which depicts this quality of the stripped murrel.With innate confidence we presumed our job.The clock ticked and minutes rolled into hours.That day we were able to catch only three fishes (excluding the one that jumped off!!),despite spending nearly five hours in the lake. We took the fishes to my mother who laughed fervently at our narration of the day’s adventure. She prepared a magnificent fish curry, exclusively for the three of us. It was the tastiest, heavenly delicious and the best fish curry I’ve ever eaten. I appreciated my mother for her skills but everyone knew the hidden essence of conscientiousness that got mixed with the curry masala that made it luscious for the tongue. NANDINI N MENON ST.TERESA'S COLLEGE,EKM   

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