A Journey Called Life …

My neighborhood smells.
No, not that kind of smell – we do not have open trash cans , open garbage bins.

My neighborhood smells yummy. It’s good to know that someone is making enchiladas , muffins , pizza , curry , lasagna , noodles . They remind me of one important thing I should not forget in my daily life – Food!

This morning , I was the only one who I found in the gym. And , the minutes on treadmill seemed like hours; hours seemed like a day. As soon I finished that ” I am the only hopeless soul running in the gym on Saturday ” phase , I came out and that yummy smell hit my nose once again ; it’s Saturday special. At 8 AM in the morning , someone cooks *Bengali Mutton Curry* and that aroma makes me homesick every Saturday!

Now , Smelling things correctly is not really my area of expertise ; I mean,I cannot figure out who the killer is ,by smelling a blood soaked shirt ; I even cannot tell you what you ate yesterday by observing you today ( Not even an inch close to a modern or old day Sherlock!)

But, being a foodie I know from where the aroma of Pizza comes when we return in the evening.
I know who made fritters in the rainy evening last week .

And that’s how even without uttering too many words ,I fall in love with my yummy neighborhood – where people from different countries cook different things , talk different languages , but eat, live and breathe in harmony .  🙂

*** It’s a sunny Saturday here. How’s yours? Does your neighborhood smell yummy too?