A young boy guessed my age to be 42.

My initial reaction was to be horrified. But now that I have had time to think about it, I shouldn’t be shocked. I am not that far away from 42.

I look into the mirror for signs of wrinkles. I don’t see any, but perhaps my failing eyesight is deceiving me.

My boobs are not sagging. Yet. It is a matter of time before they succumb to gravity.

I shall soon want to wear colours other than black to regain my lost youth.

My joints ache. I thought that the pain was due to a miniscule tear I got from a sports injury 6 years ago, but now I think it’s just old age and rheumatism.

I live in an imaginary world where I am always 30. I should start socialising with real adults who discuss Tolstoy’s War and Peace and Anna Karenina.

Smokin’ SOB asked me a couple of days ago why there were only 2 or 3 different vegetable dishes in an indian mixed rice stall. Was it because indians don’t enjoy their vegetables? Or was it just our minds telling us that vegetables are vegetables only when they are green and leafy and recognisable?Having grown up in a home where eating was an art form, I never noticed the lack of vegetables. I remember mum forcing me to finish up the sawi, or else! (rotan hanging nearby).

So coming back to the question of vegetables, what do indians eat?? Popular indian vegetarian dishes include fried sliced eggplant, crispy bittergourd chips, dhall curry, vegetarian kurma, lentils and vegetable curry and tomato chutney. And this is in addition to the usual no-brainer stirfries (my only specialty in this fast-forward world :-)). What makes indian vegetarian dishes special is the addition of a multitude of spices to tempt the palate. I remember the fragrant smell of popping mustard seeds in the kuali mixed with garnishes of sliced onions, ginger and curry leaves as mum whipped up a seemingly simple looking vegetarian dish.

Which makes living in Malaysia really wonderful. The variety of styles of preparation, be it chinese or indian or malay or japanese, ensures that one never really gets bored of the selection of foods we have here.

The traumatic experience of my childhood has guaranteed my eternal hatred for sawi, but I will always appreciate the effort mum put into making her dishes more-than-edible. The secret ingredient? Love. Can’t beat that.