#NaPoWriMo Day 8: Kneading Dough.

Just this morning, I knead some dough,
You know?
The usual flour in a bowl–
Two cups, no less, no more,
A cup of water, also,
Or maybe just three-fourths,
Mixed together, steady and slow,
Until the flour turned into dough.

And it got me thinking:
Just hear me out–
‘Maybe we start out as the flour,
Then, life shapes us into dough.’

We don’t always get to choose
The kind of flour we’re going to be,
Whether we’re made of rice, or corn, or wheat,
And then comes the question–
Are we going to be roti, or pizza, or macaroni?
Would we use water, or eggs, or yeast?
Would we be plain, or savoury, or sweet?
We’re just flour with infinite possibilities.

If you were me, you’d see, too,
How life’s just like kneading dough:
We all start out just as cups of flour,
And turn into so much more.

Life throws us into pans and ovens,
And tandoors, and kilns, and stoves,
But how we come out on the other end
Is a result of hard work, and love,
And kindness, and perseverance,
And learning, and unlearning, and some more,
Until we’re ready to be presented,
On a plate, or in a box, or on a charcuterie board.

But flour and dough alone
Don’t make a meal complete,
Until we choose a condiment,
And a seasoning, or even a dessert treat.

Then comes the dilemma–
Do we want mustard, or mayonnaise?
Or salsa, or ranch, or marinara?
What toppings are there going to be?
Do we choose to be a lovely bruschetta?
Or comforting peanut butter and jelly?
Do we like cream cheese or nothing at all?
We start out as flour and end up with possibilities.

And here’s the funny thing–
I don’t really know much about bread,
But this is where my mind took me
As I stood before the dough I knead.

~© Shubhangi Srinivasan

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They say the best ideas always come to us on a random Tuesday.

Which is ironic, since it really is a random Tuesday and I really was kneading some dough this morning, as I cooked the poem up in my head. I didn’t feel like following the prompt given to us via napowrimo.net today, but inspiration did strike me in the unlikeliest of manners. Who would’ve ever thought, right?

But as I stood in the kitchen, kneading dough to make some rotis, I just thought, ‘Huh, kneading dough and making rotis is like going through the trials and tribulations of life, because the poor dough has no idea it’s going to be baked on a hot pan and then tossed into the fire for a few seconds until it rises.’ And then I thought that maybe we’re all like flour who are shaped into all kinds of dough. The rest of the poem just followed, and I didn’t really have to think about it too much. The entire poem is a very good metaphor, I’ll daresay. I am more interested in the way you, my readers, will interpret it, though.

I am so proud of this poem. I don’t tell myself that too often, but I am making it a point to appreciate my abilities a little more.

This morning, when I went to check the prompt on the NaPoWriMo site, I saw that it was some sort of a romantic poem. And honestly, I am in a place where after years of writing about love and all the ways it hurt me, I just want to have fun with my writing. And I’ve made it my mission for at least this year’s NaPoWriMo season. Then again, we’re just eight days in. Nobody knows how long I’ll go without writing about it, not even me.

And that’s the beauty of poetry. 

One minute, you’re telling yourself, “Hey, maybe writing funny things with hidden meanings isn’t really your forté, you know?” And the next, you’re writing about bread, and portraits, and some random nonsensical stuff. But you know what? It’s turning out so well, I might just have to knock thrice on wood to avoid jinxing myself.

See you tomorrow with a brand new poem, then?

Yours truly,
The Shubhster.

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This has been day 8 of 30!
See you tomorrow?
Cheerio! Xx

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Featured Image by Tamara Gak on Unsplash