Four years since I discovered the bliss of sipping on thick, molten hot chocolate. My life has never been the same since that fateful, sweltering hot afternoon in Mumbai. Whoever says hot chocolate should only be had in freezing winters, should be shot in the head and punched on the face, twice, by Hulk.
Chocolate by itself is a divine thing. Imagine it being melted
just the right amount, to give it that beautiful, thick, slurpy consistency
which of course must be relished slowly and deliberately, in a pretty looking,
thick, ceramic mug. I shiver just thinking about it. There’s nothing a
well-made cup of hot chocolate can’t solve.
If only Adolf Hitler had been served hot chocolate during World
War I and II, if only Ed Gein was given a cozy cuppa split seconds before he
committed those heinous murders and closer to home, if only the Stoneman or
even Gandhi Ji had one sip of hot, heady cocoa, countless lives could have been
saved, wars could have ended and the history of mankind as we know it today,
could have been re-written. Who knows!
A well-made cup of hot chocolate, is potent. It lingers in your
mouth and lives on as a happy memory, long after you’ve consumed it. You could
even call it a beautiful dream, which you wish never ended. But end it does,
unfortunately, like most things dreamy and too good to be true, in this cruel,
unforgiving world. And all you can do, is wait helplessly for your next cup of
steaming, hot, molten cocoa.
I’d like to believe, hot chocolate is 100% fat free, because it
has zero carbohydrates. It’s always best to drink your calories, than to gulp
it down, because then the fat flows straight out of your body, as opposed to
accumulating in god-awful nooks and crannies, you didn’t even know existed.
This is what I tell myself, each time, I drink a sinful mug.
Whoever invented this glorious dessert, deserves nothing less
than a global recognition. If ever mankind ceases to exist, hot chocolate is
what we should be remembered by. This is our legacy to the world.
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