It’s been a while that I left my parent’s home. I miss them. I miss them a lot. Sometimes on Sunday afternoons, when I am just hanging out by myself, like I am doing today, I imagine what must be going on in my parent’s household, that now just consists of 2 old people.
It’s 3 pm right now. So another hour to go. Both my old parent now have the luxury to take an afternoon nap after a full life of very hard work of bringing us up and providing for everything we ever needed and more. Well, anyways, so my mother will probably be the first one to stir open her eyes. She’ll reach out across the bed and give my dad a nudge. He’ll continue to snore. She’ll get irritated. She’ll get up. She’ll go to the kitchen. She’ll put 2 cups of water to boil and some ‘elaichi’ in a steel pan that she has probably been using for 15+ years. She tells me this with pride. There is no stain on the steel. No tell-tale brown marks of tea left to boil on a high flame. It is always scrubbed clean if that ever happens. But the handle is gone. So she uses a pair of tongs to handle the vessel.
My father will still be snoring. Everything is calm in the Patodia household.
My mom takes some snacks out to go with the tea. She takes out her big round tray. She puts 2 cups, the box of snacks, papa’s sugar free, 2 spoons on the tray. Next she adds the tea leaves into the water that is boiling by now. She walks up to my father again. By this time she is fully awake. She is purposeful. She more than nudges him and use her voice simultaneously to wake him up. My father gets up with a start, is a little upset, and immediately asks her if he can get some tea. She tell him nonchantly – “already on it’s way”. Walks back to the kitchen. Now adds milks to the tea and gives it another boil. Strains and pours the tea out in a kettle, places it on the tray and comes back to the room.
The tray is place on the bed. My father is propped against his round pillow. Awake by now. And both of them enjoy a quiet tea together.
When I am home, I try to always capture that whiff of boiling tea coming from the kitchen. Our conversations over the cups of tea. Yes, there are multiple rounds. As much as I try I can never re-create the taste of that tea. But Whenever I think of them at tea-time, I can conjure up that smell immediately.
I’ve come to understand that some foods taste the way they do because of the people we have it with.
Cozy were our Sunday evenings when, for dinner
We took pleasure in a soft-boiled egg, delicate and soft,
Sitting atop a bed of greens, milled pepper,
Extra virgin olive oil and a pinch of sea salt.
We shared private smiles that formed about our faces
As we cut gently into the tender white,
Smiles that beamed the golden glow of our romantic love
And the warm runny yolk like laces.
Alas! From dawn to dark, in early bright,
My beloved departed, flew away in a hurry like a dove.
Amidst bewilderment and abandonment,
Comfort came slowly at meal times.
The coddled familiarity of a soft-boiled egg brought easement.
Mending took place without any passionate crimes.
The golden warmth of its center glowed brighter,
For now it beamed for only one.
I would rejoice over this humble delicacy,
So loyal and constant, my heart more joyous and lighter.
With my once-beloved long gone, I have won,
For the soft-boiled egg is to be mine in all intimacy.
Here’s to You!, Chocolate Covered Strawberry… From the time that we met, you enticed our senses.. and helped us to begin a very Sweet journey. Your Sweet and Sexy … Juicy and Firm.. and ever so Beautiful. You captivate me with your dark brown skin leaving little to the imagination. Impacting so many with Your bold and sassy look tickling my tounge every time I bite you. I need you Chocolate Covered Strawberry…Your intoxicating to my Soul..my mouth.. my stomach. Stay with me Forever and ever and remind us how Sweet Life is!…