I woke up with a message this morning.. the starting line of the message was I know what it feels Indrani.. She is a friend of mine you know.. that kind with who I have spent most of my twenties.. And we met when we were 18..now you clearly know what I mean.. The essence of newly found independence...freshly brewed excitement of living away from home.. lot of things were coming up.. with the rustic charm of first time.. One of them was hostel food.. and the flavor of South India.. Given the fastidious eater I have always been..food was something I just couldnt manage.. for a long time.. When my plight used to become unbearable.. I would land up at her place.. and eventually that turned out to be every day!!.. well almost..:) And those soft fluffy white idlis.. with irresistible green chatni.. followed by her signature South Indian coffee.. and the soothing bright smile.. You have to eat more Indrani.. finish it up.. I am getting you few more.. Yes.. that was aunty.. And it went on for years.. It was raining one evening.. I remember.. I hardly had anything to eat at night.. next day being my birthday.. Around 10 PM..I heard a knock at my door.. It was aunty with her daughter.. mom holding the platter.. daughter.. taking care of the umbrella.. I am sure you didnt go out to buy anything.. what she didnt say was.. I know the extent of your laziness when it comes to food.. Unlike me..my friend was right there beside her mother.. when aunty breathed her last.. that feeling.. only if you want to call it so.. she wanted to share.. this morning.. perhaps after a long hiatus.. And with this..I realize for the nth time over that..life soaks up every bit of reality yet remains the greatest story teller..thus..
Posted on: Sat, 15 Nov 2014 23:51:51 +0000
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