u/Feeling_Broccoli_795

My nani is 78 and I've been meaning to learn her dal makhani recipe for years. Everyone says hers is different, richer, slower, something about the way she does the tadka. Last month I finally went over with the intention of actually writing it down.

She started cooking and I started taking notes. Except she doesn't measure anything. "Thoda sa." "Aankhon se dekho." "Jab sahi lagey."

I tried to get her to be specific. She looked at me like I'd asked her to explain gravity. "You learn it by doing, not by reading," she said.

So I started actually doing. And somewhere between the second tempering of the spices and the part where she told me to "listen" to the dal because it tells you when it needs water, I asked her when she learned to cook.

She paused. Stirred. Then told me she learned alone after her mother died when she was 14. That she used to cry while cooking because she was trying to remember how her mother's kitchen smelled. That she learned to put love into food because it was the only way she knew to keep her mother's memory in the room.

I didn't write down anything after that. I just listened.

I never knew any of this. We talked for four hours. She told me stories about her childhood I had never heard. I told her things about my life I hadn't told my parents.

The dal was incredible. But I also got something I can never write down in a recipe. I've gone back every Sunday since.

This happened two weeks ago and I still have no idea how it escalated the way it did.

I was at a busy railway station waiting for a delayed train, sitting on a bench, minding my business. A golden retriever wandered up to me and sat on my feet. No owner in sight. I figured the owner would come get him in a minute so I just let him sit there.

The owner never came.

After 20 minutes people were stopping to take photos of me and the dog. Someone asked if they could pet "my dog" and I said "he's not mine" and they laughed like I was being modest. A child came and asked his name. I said I didn't know. The child named him Biscuit on the spot.

By the time the station announcement guy made a lost dog announcement, there was a small crowd around us. I had somehow become responsible for Biscuit in everyone's eyes without consenting to this.

The actual owner, an elderly gentleman who had been in the restroom, came to collect Biscuit and was so grateful he gave me a 200 rupee note which I did not know how to refuse.

I came back the next day for another train. The station chai vendor recognized me. "Dog wala bhaiya!" he said and gave me chai at half price.

I went back a third time. Same vendor, same chai discount. A security guard waved at me. A kid pointed me out to his mom.

I've been back four times now. I am a local celebrity at this train station. I am the man who watched someone else's dog for 20 minutes. This is my legacy.

Saw my ex at a coffee shop and panicked. Faked being deaf. A month later, the barista (who knows ASL) introduced me to a local sign language performance group who needed members. I've been "performing" for 8 months. I'm in too deep.

Not lightly either.
Like movie sound effect level impact.

The worst part?
People asked if the door was okay.

Tell me your most NPC embarrassing moment.