Laugh, Lettuce, Lose, LiquidLaugh, Lettuce, Lose, Liquid, Lamp Laugh, Lettuce, Lose, Liquid, Lamp Laugh, Lettuce, Lose, Liquid, Lamp Laugh, Lettuce,

[supriya sharma]

I glared at my brother. He continued to laugh at me. I picked up the plate and held it close to his face. “If this is not lettuce, then what is?” I asked angrily.

He sniggered. “You can’t tell cabbage from lettuce. This isn’t even cabbage. This is fake lettuce.”

“Whatt!”

I wringed the napkin in my hands before throwing it on the kitchen slab. We were making a special dinner for my parents. It was a surprise. Actually it was his idea. I don’t know why. Maybe he wanted to pitch for that bike again. I wasn’t even suppose to be here. My movie plan got cancelled at the last moment and he was stuck with me. That’s what he had been sulking about ever since I told him I’ll be at home all day. 

“You can’t even make salad right,” he went on, shaking his head gravely. He was studying to be a chef and had suddenly become the authority on food. He had found fault with everything I had done. The onions had been chopped too thick, the carrots hadn’t been scrapped right and now, lettuce wasn’t lettuce. Great!

And I couldn’t even get back at him. Being a vegetarian, I couldn’t taste the butter chicken he had made. And worst of all…he didn’t let me bake the cake! I was the cake baker in the house okay! But no. Today he was baking the cake. He wouldn’t even let me near it or prepare the icing. What was he doing? He had even given our cook a day off. Maybe it’s bigger than the bike, I thought. Maybe he will tell them about Priyanka! Hmm. Anyway, I had already secretly vowed never to bake him another cake on his birthday. Ha! Take that!

And this was no time to lose my cool. So I swallowed my annoyance. “So dear bro, where will we get real lettuce from?” I asked sweetly.

He coolly shrugged his shoulders. “Make salad without it I guess. Please let me chop the carrots and the liquid on the stove is coming to a boil.”

I fumed. He meant the soup. I left the kitchen to set the table. If he finds one fault with this table arrangement, I am going to stab him with this…with this fork! I wiped it hard and set it on the right side. Fold napkins so that they look like swans, I mimicked him. Oh look look they are flying away. 

Mom-Dad’s flight was at 7pm. They should be home soon. He had even tried sending me off with Santosh bhaiya to pick them up. Really! He can take ALL the credit. I won’t even eat what he has cooked. And I hope his cake gets burnt. I set the table and went back to my room. I strummed my guitar for a while and then dozed off, sprawled on the bean bag.

---

My mom shook me gently. “Get up sweetie! Dinner time.”

“Hey! You’re back!” I smiled. She handed me a big, white envelope. It was addressed to me. I looked at it groggily as I walked into the dining room. My eyes widened as I turned it around. And then I looked up. The feast had been laid. There was a huge chocolate cake on the table, right in the centre. And written on it in blue icing

For my lil musician who has cracked Trinity College London. Congratulations!!!