So Diwali came and went, Mi. Somehow, this year seems to be whizzing by, mostly courtesy Vidur, who makes my head spin with his busy-ness. There was a time when I was the busiest, or appeared to be. Now, it doesn’t seem like that, what with not having the kind of pressure I took on earlier. These days I am focusing on doing what makes me happy. (I heard you say amen to that!)
To prove it, I actually visited V last week. Okay, so I admit I was picked up and dropped, but hey, he did it voluntarily. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse. On the way, I managed to stop by Subashree and pick up Vidur’s cardigan. Yeah, I meant sweater and hey ho, it fits! It is a lovely dark grey color.
While I was there waiting for the girl to bring the sweater from their loft, I was chatting with the owner’s daughter, reminiscing over the years gone by. Imagine my stunned surprise when she said she liked my accessories. Then I nudged my crazy mind to shut it when I realized she meant my bracelet (yeah, that bracelet), bamboo earrings etc. Come to think of it, I was so totally color-coordinated that day — I was also carrying that cute little woven bag with the leather handle! Here’s what I had on. I got that multicolored thumb ring recently and love it.
She then recommended a shop off Sampige road that sold similar ethnic stuff. I ought to go check it out, Mi. Wish you were here you know! What memories I have of us visiting Ethnic. Those guys have now grown to three showrooms, you know? I still have some of the mangalagiri and kancheevaram cotton kurtas we got there, together. Sigh.
After Subashree, we went to V’s house and time-passed for a while with a lot of bantering about how I had finally made it to his place after 10 years of promising! He has a lovely little garden on his terrace and this pot made us think of you. He also had manathakkalikka – we plucked a few and ate them.
On the way back, V and I had a lovely lunch at NKB. Lovelier because the South Indian Thali actually did not have beetroot curry and cabbage kootu – somehow they always seem to have that when we visit. That day they served beans with coconut curry, greens – I think it was gongura, a nice mixed kootu and, mmmm, rasam. We opted for puri instead of roti and indulged.
Oh, and I did make 7 cups for Diwali.
Yes, I counted how many pieces – 38. I was smiling with my eyes full when I counted, recalling how you would insist on knowing the number.
Yes, I cut when it was hot.
I tried arranging it like a “diya” but Sury said it looked like…never mind!
And yes, I swished some water around the pan and heated it and well, poured the thick melted residue in a glass and um…drank it, thereby not only enjoying a glass of quasi kheer, but also cleaning the vessel neatly. No gulab jamuns, as I was advised to defer it to the day when the sweet gets over. Sensible plan, I thought.
Two days ago I had a pleasant surprise when Gopmama called. Manni also spoke. I somehow can’t accept that Mama is 75. I mean, he was always five years older than I am, right? How can he grow old? Sigh! Life is unfair. Thank heavens he sounds the same, though! It freaks me out to think only he survives now, out of all your siblings. You had no business going like that, Mi! Even today, when I think back on Feb 3, 2010, I shudder when I remember how you said you wished you could hold that moment forever, when we stood hugging in the living room before we left for the hospital.
I am off to sulk now.