‘Food is life. And life is all about tasting different foods. Only I know the pain of waiting hours and hours for my mom to make that one divine dish that would perfectly makes my day. I had to request my mom a day before to prepare that dish as it’s majesty needed the whole day to reveal itself. Yes, the pain was real.
The excitement would not let me sit at ome place and I would hop between the kitchen and my room just like a bouncing ball. The whole house relished the aromatic scent of it’s majesty. I watched as my mom coated it with thick, fresh yogurt mixed with a variety of spices. She then let it have it’s moment for about an hour. My hungry eyes gazed at it while my watered mouth was desperate to tear it apart.
It was then time for my mom to bring it to life. The grill was out. The oil was poured. The ingredients were set. Every second after that was equal to an hour for me. My starved eyes widened and my jaw dropped as she slipped it on the sizzling grill which was waiting to absorb every bit of it. I could hear each sound that it made while sizzling on the pan. She would gently flip it around in between to reveal the goodness. While it’s majesty was in the process of transforming, my mom moved on to the drink__the key to a perfect meal.
I watched as she poured the soda into the tall wine glasses. The fizz raced up to the surface of the glass like an erupting volcano. She then squeezed a lime in it with seeds floating and drops dispersing in the solution mysteriously. A pinch of salt and some ice cubes were the perfect finish to it.
At last, it was cooked. She gently placed it on the shining ceramic plate as I watched un-resistably. It was still breathing, but I was out of breath. She finally placed it in front of my to devour the goodness.
Ah! The aroma was intoxicating my whole existence. The favourite ingredient of my life was sitting in front of my eyes after all that wait. It was hot, it was bold and it was striking. I poured my favourite mushroom sauce as a topping and it melted into it like heaven.
I grabbed my fork along with the knife and dived into the goodness. The feeling was extravagant. It was moist and lavishing. As soon as I took a bite out of it, it felt like as if I had tasted the best thing in the universe. The essence of charcoal was mesmerising. The crust was chewy but the centre was juicy. At last my cravings came to an end.
It is the most authentic combination in the history of food and any cuisine; steaks with fresh lime.’
Delicate. That is how it looks like. With its supreme foundation of spices which boost its already vibrant spectrum of colours, the delicacy never fails to twist people taste buds, hooking them on this addictive drug.
A dream come true; that is how it tastes like. Once you deliver it your mouth, an extravaganza of flavour begins to accumulate around the tongue. The eyes close, the lips involuntarily smile, and the brain drifts off into hibernation, having not the willpower go withstand the vivid tang.
But how would it smell like? I have not the words, nor the brain capacity to dress the smell in clothes sewn of the best adjectives out there. It smells of rainfall, it smells of hot coffee. It smells of mountain salt from India, it smells of seaweed from the depths of Niagara Falls. It smells of everything, it smells of nothing at all. The problem, fortunately (yes fortunately), is that it smells so unreal that human words cannot satisfy the description. The alien combination of spices from every corner of the world creates such a concoction that they are chemically inseparable. The cocktail bursts open in the mouth, initiating a disco party that lasts until the bite does.
Pity. That is what I feel when I hear someone saying they have not yet had the honour to taste this godly dish. To my taste buds, it tastes like heaven itself. They rejoice and celebrate when this dish comes into existence. The teeth merrily grind and tear through the soft, honest seeds, extracting the absorbed juice. Even the oesophagus transports the gobble of deliciousness to the stomach with tears joy.
And what else could my description relate to other than the grandmaster of them all? Biryani: ring a bell? It is the dish that brings tears to the manly-est man, happiness to the every suicidal heart… And warmth under the coldest winter nights.
The view was prepossessing. Rain descended upon the vast wasteland, colliding with the infuriated faces that paddled through the dirt. Thunder lectured the land, the land lectured its inhabitants, and they lectured each other.
The flesh of time and space was denatured, as battle cries sparked through the night, dancing in the cold threads of air. Anarchy laughed, Catastrophe grinned and Armageddon stood proud, as the land was drowned in sweat and blood.
Hell had descended upon mankind.
A mortar shell glided through the freezing atmosphere, calmly coming in contact with the ground, and with its warm touch, inviting death to wherever it journeyed. Gunfire could be heard from far off, until it came penetrating through the air into your heart.
The beating stopped. Sudden realization kept the mind in confusion and suspense as the legs lost control and balanced off of the ground. The firing was still in play. Slowly, the hands were forgotten about, and with a last calm breath, eternal sleep overcame the martyr.
By now the sun had peeked over the horizon. It was beautiful.
The men were in a state of control. They ravaged through the stream of blood and dirt. They were blind, yet their faith was ocular. They didn’t hear the screams of those they killed, but their weapons did. They couldn’t breathe in the smell of fresh blood… But victims could.
The scene was calm for one moment, and savage for the other. The weather stood proud, the clouds cried, the atmosphere felt threatened and the mood was energizing.
The battlefield was a playground to those who believed, a walk in the part for those destined to die. Everyone was joyous, only the fruitful reward governing their mind.
… Yet no one lived to tell the tale.
“Ahmad , you’re up”, shouted the coach. I jumped up at the sound, simultaneously pulling off the black jacket, to reveal the dark blue uniform emblazoned with the fire red phoenix in the centre. I walked up as my teammate took my place on the bench. My fingers dove through my jet black messy hair, as I took a deep breath.
The feeling was electric. The hundreds of girls and boys dressed in blue and red were chanting our names .The coach gave me a grim look. He looked ancient with his snow white hair and wrinkled face. I took in everything. The shine of the ground and the paint of the walls. My teammates and opponents looked ready to collapse. Sweat dripped down their noses and chins and their deep ragged breaths sounded painful as they gasped for air.
It was time to deliver. I gripped the orange and black ball in my hands and let it fall and come back up in to my arms as if it was a piece of metal being attracted to a magnet. The ball whipped through the air sounding like a whistle. My legs moved wobbly as if they were made up of jelly. They could feel the pressure. It was getting suffocating. The faces of everyone looked like blank. They were all the same simply obstacles in my path.
Time had begun to run out. Despite my untiring efforts, the game was getting out of hand. Bit by bit those alligators in green were turning the court into their own personal river. They moved like actual alligators. Predators on the hunt. They moved supernaturally fast like a superhero out ofa comic book. We had to find inspiration and we had to find it quick.
And suddenly everything fell into place. The phoenix had risen from the ashes and the new and improved one came with a vengeance. Trail blazing, guns blazing the basketball match quickly became a massacre as the bird of fire sunk its talons deeper into its prey.
And then it was all over. And the applause, the happiness, the excitement and the energy was infectious. I felt rejuvenated, relaxed and happy. Pumped up, we embraced each other, conveying such feelings and emotions that simply could not be conveyed using words. And as my sobbing captain passed me the gigantic golden trophy, shining with almost an aura of power, I knew nothing could steal this moment from me.
The extract ‘Telling Rowdy’ has been taken from the novel ‘The Absolutely True Diary of a part-time Indian’ written by Sherman Alexie.
The Genre of this passage is non-fiction and is written in the first person point of view (Junior’s). The tone is informal, sad and casual. The intended audience of this passage is general audience or young adults to be more precise. The purpose of this passage is to entertain and draw attention to the difficult lives of the Native Indian Americans. The theme generated is friendship and how it can be deceiving.
From the opening lines of the passage ‘I was the ONLY kid, white or Indian, who knew that Charles Dickens wrote A Tale of two cities’, this appears to be one of the compelling factors behind Junior’s decision to move to Reardon. Comparison between Indian and white people has been made, as the line ‘They were filled with hope’ shows how white people were superior to the people at Rez. The Rez is basically a reservation where Native Indian Americans lived separately from the rest of the American population. Furthermore, it lacked formal education and the basic necessities of life, not to forget poverty. ‘Man, I was scared of those Reardon kids, and maybe I was scared of hope too’. This line signifies that Junior feared the class difference.
When junior leaves the reservation to attend high school in Reardon, Rowdy not only refuses to go with him, but also punches junior, screaming that he hates him.
Simple Language has been used and words like ‘wuss’ have been introduced making the tone overall, informal. Assertive tone is adopted to reveal Junior’s decision, such as the use ellipses ‘I’m doing it….. I’m going to Reardon tomorrow’ putting emphasis on the statement.
Similes for example ‘I’m as serious as a tumor’ are used to show the seriousness of Junior’s issue. Rowdy gets really angry and frustrated upon hearing that Junior was leaving Rez, and wasn’t ready to accept the reality. Whereas, Junior desperately wants to leave as he is motivated, he wants to lead a better life and for the sake of his education plus future career life. However, Rowdy feels disheartened almost as if a part of him is taken away. Hyperbole’s such as ‘My heart broke in to fourteen pieces one for each year Rowdy and I had been friends’ is used for exaggeration.
Junior tells us that the Reardon kids were “magnificent,” “beautiful,” they “knew everything,” and they were “filled with hope” .Hope, for Junior, is a mythical creature because of the class difference. Moreover, motive behind Rowdy’s anger included the fact that nobody had left the reservation and went to Reardon along with that, he is on the verge of losing his one and only best friend Junior.
Elements of shock and surprise have been mentioned, especially the time when Junior discloses his decision and Rowdy reacts by saying ‘You’re really serious?’. Onomatopoeias for example ‘Bang! Bang!’ is used to create an effect on the situation, when Rowdy punches Junior. The atmosphere had been pretty intense.
Dialogues are used to maintain a smooth conversational flow and paragraphs are constructed. Alliterations are used such as ‘Rowdy, I’m sorry, I said I’m sorry…’ again for emphasis. Varied sentence structures are present, from simple to compound and complex sentences. A simple sentence may include ‘I started crying’. An image of Junior is given towards the end of the story to show the readers the physical appearance of the protagonist.
The extract revolved around Junior’s hope and his decision to move to Reardon as he wants to attain good education. However upon this news, his best friend Rowdy is completely taken aback and knocks Junior down before leaving.
The passage leaves the reader with an unsatisfactory and sad feeling as its devastating to leave your best friend at the altar and turn your back against him/her. There is smooth yet heart-wretching transition between the two best friends who later become each other’s worst enemies towards the end of the extract.
“It is time. Kindly step inside.”
These were the only words I was able to catch. My eyes, my mind and all my five senses were fixated on the waves of purplish-pink, with a hint of gold, water that rippled underneath my touch.
Despite its colour, the water reflected a crystal clear image of an awestruck, wide-eyed girl. Her doe-like eyes stared back at me, piercing through my soul, commanding me to let go and allow the tides to take control.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and slowly, but cautiousky, surrendered myself to the magical water.
Feathery is what I felt the moment I stepped inside. I was weightless. I was without any burden. The water did not feel like water anymore, nor did it feel like air. But it carried me effortlessly.
There were walls of rainbow-coloured water on my sides. There was a blinding light in front of me. There was a black space behind me. There was a path of pure, white sand beneath me.
Yet what amazed me the most were not the physical attributes of this heavenly creation, but the feeling it filled inside of me. Volcanoes pf positive energy erupted within me, taking away all the darkness that had engulfed my soul. I felt complete. I felt satisfied. I felt at peace.
Everything inside the portal felt magical, making me never want to leave. But like all wonderful adventures come to an end, this one did too. However, I knew that I would now be one of the few people who had experience eternal bliss.