– 9:54 pm

It’s official. There will be no more steaks in this house, not for a while. Your mother’s out-of-nowhere meat “allergy” has reached Everest. A descent isn’t imminent either, not any time soon. In addition, she now has the nose of a bloodhound. She can smell a t-bone in Mumbai. And it makes her want to puke. I just found out how bad.

Earlier today, I made sure to warn her I was seasoning a steak so she wouldn’t come downstairs until I was done. Hell, I even hid it in storage (under the stairs) with the hoover, tools and cleaning products so she wouldn’t be triggered by the sight of it. I did everything I could to mentally prepare her for it. But despite all that, she’s just tried to kill me for sizzling 450g of meat. I apparently don’t understand her. Lol!

It’s clearly not what she meant but her rant came across as though I was doing this on purpose, some narcissistic ploy to make her suffer. I didn’t like it. She wanted to know the ingredients I used – “What did you put on it?”, “Are you using butter or olive oil…?” And on and on.

Even though we’d been licking our fingers to salt and peppered steaks for years now, the five-minute process had eluded her and suddenly become a great unsolved mystery. I was bewildered. There are times I wish we had a second home. This was a reminder of that unaccomplished life goal.

I’ve since learned how to prevent a bush from burning. You simply douse the fire while it’s small and not yet out of your control. So I remained calm, understanding and level-toned. It shall be well. It’s just hormones. Just ride with it.