You may be happy or unhappy to know that I’ve failed miserably at keeping every one of the three promises. I have occupied plenty of homes in my lifetime so far hifu facial, and have found my pantry devoid of dark chocolate numerous times. This has led to a lot of cursing and finger-pointing, especially when I was craving brownies or something resembling the same.I have forgotten many a Saturday Biryani and opted for cold 6-inchers from Subway instead. And a roasted chicken daily, as you can, imagine has been virtually impossible to get around to. I can barely even manage to roast any in a month .

I haven’t thought of those promises in a long time. That’s the best thing about this blog, I suppose. That’s the best thing about you and what you inspire me to do. Every time I come here, I feel I’m coming back to a repository of memories, ones that I love to visit and re-visit over and over again. And the memories are like chapters. Sometimes they end abruptly. Sometimes they’re like pretty girls…the ones you like to stare at but not do anything about. And others may lead you to the next chapter or to something completely new and different, something that you didn’t expect to remember at all. You like to turn those memories this way and that Yoga Island east, trying to understand why you’d forgotten them in the first place. They might turn out to be disappointing memories or happy ones. Sometimes you’re glad that you remembered and sometimes you’re not. But if you’re anything like me, you’ll almost always hope that the memories revolve around family and friends and food .

The blog helps me remember life lessons like this one or random recipes like this one. And I’m glad that they involve roasted chicken. They make me want to re-promise myself about dark chocolate and Saturday Biryani. They make me want to get off my arse and roast a ton of chicken. They also make me want to re-promise that my first-born will be named Siya if it’s a girl and Abhimanyu if it’s a boy University Fellow.