“Breathe in Breathe out. Relax” she coached herself as she stretched out on her yoga mat. Under the canopy of trees, she lay stretched out breathing in and out. The fixed morning routine gave her the strength to deal with the day. She loved the energy that filled her body afterwards – the pain, the exhaustion and the high.

Breathing in deeply she opened her eyes to stare at the blue sky above her. The blue skies doted with perfect puffy white clouds were a blank canvas. It looked absolutely still – a stillness she hoped would fill her.  She loved the rooftop bliss. Every morning rain or shine at 4:30am she made her way up 36 stairs to the rooftop for a couple of hours of yoga.

This morning, the rising sun warmed her hot skin as she squinted trying to spot shapes in the clouds. A tradition – a ritual – a habit .To enjoy the peace and the calm before the hustle of daily life. As her heart rate came down, her mind wandered. To temptations, pitfalls and enticements waiting for her downstairs. There were baits she will have to escape, traps to evade, allurements to avoid.  “I will have to go down” she muttered pushing herself off the mat.

Stretching she folded her yoga mat and took in signs the world waking up to festivities and celebrations. Vessels clanging, goodies being fried in oil and ghee, crackers being burst and the general humdrum of life. Festivities filled the air. It was day of celebrations -a day when darkness gave way to light. A belief of victory – good over bad.

“A day of temptations” she groaned. She had been shopping the past week for the day and stocking up the pantry for her mother-in-law to create wonderful concoctions. Milk, sugar, ghee, oil, varieties of flours, nuts, fruits and saffron. She searched the markets for pistachios of the highest quality, freshest milk, vanilla bean pods and strands of saffron bargaining and haggling. The holiday season made supplies dearer. Milk dumplings fried in oil and dipped in sugar syrup, savory fried crisps twisted into concentric circles, layers of pastry dough stuffed with spiced vegetables and fried.

Unlocking the front door, she walked in to the house. The house smelt of temptation. Of sin. Of calories. Of sugar and ghee. It was a smell that she loved and hated. There was a bustle of activity in the kitchen. More oil heated, more goodies fried, more temptations added to the plate. She mentally groaned as her fingers inched towards the tempting dumplings. Scolding herself, she picked up her usual banana-berry smoothie from the fridge.

She took a sip of the cool liquid fighting temptation – a losing battle. Soon she will be stuffing herself with gulub jamuns and murukku. Rasamalai and jelebis. Payasam and vadai. Oh how she loved the fried goodness. She could walk away from chocolate cakes and dessert trays at top restaurants but not from the temptations at home.  This Diwali like every other year, she will give in to temptation.

This post is a part of the April A to Z challenge. 26 days, 26 letters and 26 short stories. Come back tomorrow for more.