I smelt gas as I walked out of the lift to my condo. I sniffed harder. There was the smell of gas in the air. I walked into our condo and asked my husband if he smelt it. He opened the cupboard that housed the gas tank. Nothing. But the cupboard adjacent to the electric oven and gas hob did. I didn’t pick up any odour. And, that was a surprise. Particularly as I tend to cough at the faintest unusual smell – good and bad – ever since I was diagnosed with bronchiectasis. My lungs have either become more sensitive or my sense of smell has been accentuated. Whichever. I smelt it again outside.  Responsibly, I walked over to my neighbour and suggested they check their gas tank and connections. I still didn’t smell anything inside.

Two weeks later. This happened.

I was sautéing onions for my mum’s Aloo Gobi, an Indian cauliflower and potato dish, when my gas hob exploded. Yes. It exploded while I was standing directly in front of it. Instantly, I felt a burning sensation on both my legs. Instinctively, I turned off the gas tank. Applied a small leaf of aloe vera (that I had taken from my mum’s condo) on my legs. Not enough. Squeezed toothpaste all over the stinging sensation. Then, stood and looked at the mess.

A leak or built up of gas had lifted the gas hob off the countertop. It was sitting up at an almost 30° angle. The pan with the onions had slid off but the contents were intact. The grime and dirt caught under the gas hob became obvious and visible to me. Condiments were strewn about. The cupboard that my husband smelt gas had one of its hinges ripped off. The door was hanging out. Stuff inside – a candle holder (why was it there?), a small purse with loose change (what was it doing there?), a half-full water bottle and Tupperware containers were sitting on the kitchen rug. Parts of the rug were singed. The cupboard also had two bottles of red vine, a bottle of olive oil and six cartons of milk. They remained unbroken and unmoved. 

The electric oven door was slightly ajar. I realised later when my right knee hurt that my legs had stopped it from being blown wide open. Mulling the situation, I called my husband to come home quite urgently. In the interim, I thanked God. Then, put aside the dhal, already cooked for my mum’s lunch. I also put away the WIP roasted potatoes, cauliflower and sautéed onions for another day. As I did that, I thought it was lucky the cooked dhal was resting on a cooling rack on another counter. That meant my mum could still have it for lunch. I smiled at how my brain worked.

I looked at the situation again, and considered the cleaning involved. Not a happy prospect. When my husband returned, he was surprisingly upbeat that ‘only’ the gas hob had exploded. Of course, he was relieved to see that I was still standing with body parts intact, albeit with toothpaste smothered on my legs. He gave me a hug and explained that he thought the urgency was related to my mum. It wasn’t. To him, I was ok. The stove was replaceable. The cupboard door was fixable. The kitchen was cleanable. All doable. True. At the end of the day, they were just things. We managed a little laugh.

After I let the incident sink in. I thanked God again. I had gone to my temple that morning, only the second visit, since the various phases of the lockdown due to the pandemic. I felt like I was saved and protected. Quite honestly, it could have been much worse. I didn’t want to frighten myself about what could have happened, but gratefully didn’t. Nevertheless, that scenario played out in my head. Scary and sobering.

It made me ponder. We both smelt gas. We both forgot about it. There was no smell of gas after that one time. I also didn’t smell it on the day of the explosion. Maybe the aroma of the various spices overwhelmed the smell of gas. Then again, I didn’t smell gas inside the condo that very first time two weeks ago.

Anyway, my takeaway from the incident is to pay attention when something is not working and/or not quite right. Things in the house, the car, and our personal well-being like a nagging headache, blurry vision or a dodgy sense of smell. Especially if they affect our health, safety and security. If something is amiss. Don’t be blasé. Don’t dismiss. Do the necessary. Do it as quickly as possible.