Flattered by chapathi, when Pizza met chapati Ajith M S My mom and I are truly impressions of each other, during my early days I used to think of her as someone who imitates me, later did I realize that this resemblance was not learned but was something that came in, bloodwise. Among the traits that were passed, the one thing that we had very much in common was the fact that we both were buyers, we loved buying which included even the eatables. But we both tanked miserably in culinary expertise, thankfully we had my dad to fill in there, a man with heightened sense of cooking. It was his absence that pushed us into the kitchen instead of the tables, being a Sunday it was ritual for us to cook something special, and my resolute mother decided to do the shopping for lunch leaving me with my long pending assignment work. An hour later she walked in without heavy shopping bags, surprisingly, and to my amazement she came to me and took out a bottle that read ‘sauce-p...