The Chronicle of a Lifelong Ice Cream Addict

If I had to describe myself in one sentence, it would be this: terrorizing the lives of ice cream servers since 1989. To be exact, my love affair started when I turned two and discovered both the vocabulary of screaming and the sheer joy of frozen desserts. Before that, around 1987, I was—in my son’s words—"just a little bean," or in my own words, a sleeping blob. 

Back then, I ate like a wild animal. My mother, overwhelmed by the chaotic mess, resorted to stuffing cone ice creams inside drinking glasses. Eating was a total annihilation of dairy; picture a lion lunging for a hippo or a zebra in the jungle, only for the prey to explode all over the predator's face. That was me at two years old—except covered in ice cream instead of mud. 

Decades later, ice cream still excites me and terrorizes every Ibaco server in Chennai. My son and I routinely hound the poor staff behind the counter, demanding custom scoops paired with exactly 99 toppings. Not 100, mind you, because we are civilized humans who leave a little something for the other customers. From Pistachio and Sea Salt Caramel Pecan to Chocolate Orange, Belgian Chocolate, and Almond Crunch, the flavor combinations are infinite. 

My mouth is watering just thinking about it. I cannot wait to hit Ibaco this weekend for the millionth time to get lost in a world of sugary goodness. Once an ice cream lover, always an ice cream lover. This beautiful love story started when I was two, and I never want it to end. Is there anything better in this world than ice cream? Absolutely not! Ice cream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream!