We were sitting in the cafeteria, after hovering around the ICCU all morning, waiting for one of the doctors to appear so we could grab every chance to see you, Mi. The tubes running in and out of you were alarming. We were dejected to […]
It might be that time of year again, Mi.
Yes, i started my annual cold. Of course I am determined, for the safety of all concerned, to quell it before it builds up into a full blown whatever it has in mind. In the meantime, as usual, as is the tradition when I am falling sick, I am feeling rather energetic.
So energetic I skinned some beet roots first thing in the morning. And the list in my notebook is growing long.
Another tension point was triggered this morning when Sury innocently asked what’s in the trunk in the open attic. Gosh. If there’s one switch that can set me off into a mentally exhausting trip in my head, it is thinking about the stuff we have stashed away in the storage space above the closets in each room. I have a weird feeling of dread mixed with anticipation–because honestly, I don’t think I remember what is in each of these. I do have a vague idea of course.
How I wish you were here! It would have been fun to clear out the stuff. You were always so much better at deciding what to do when it came to decluttering. Me, I just go into nostalgia mode and sit on the fence until it hurts.
I really should write down everything. I know I have a fab memory but I hate it when a tiny thing slips my mind. Sure, I make lists but you know the one thing that gets away and blows out of proportions! Sigh!
On the subject of falling sick, I fondly recalled how I drove you crazy during the rare times I did fall sick – like once or max twice a year. There was this one time when we were in C-6 – and I recall lying in bed, in a rotten mood wanting to eat something. You suggested twenty things and I didn’t want any of those. Naturally I didn’t know what I wanted either. Then S visited and she ran out to buy oranges. I ate those and promptly puked.
The one happy vivid memory I have of that time is the sight of you sitting serenely under the fan, reading, smiling, listening to me rant away for no reason. Me sulking and furious I couldn’t get on my bike and loaf around because I was too sick to stand. Friends dropping by and teasing the heck out of me. Good times. Good thing I rarely fell sick, eh?
How can I not think of those warm cozy Saturday afternoons when we settled down with a big basket of oranges between us and ate them as we watched a movie! ♥
So I am thinking of halwa-ing the beetroot. Good thing both father and son love it. I have this desperate craving for besan laddu. Remember how S’s mom would send me a big dubba of it? What lovely memories of that time! She made delicious laddus. I am tempted to buy some but I think of your expression – I mean, it is so easy to make. So maybe I’ll make myself a few and enjoy.
Incidentally, after ages, years, in fact, gulab jamuns at home. Small batch only for Sury. Can you believe that I, who used to down eight to ten at a time cannot even stand one now? I tried a tiny piece and just could not tolerate the sweet. To think it was one of the two or three sweets I liked and gorged on! Funny life. Definitely showing my diabetes who’s boss.
Okay. coffee and work now. I’ll be back tomorrow.
But I have a song for you, Mi! Enjoy. You know this is among my all-time favorites. No, not forgetting the bass guitar! 🙂
So last night, very cleverly I stacked the pressure cooker, feeling very proud of myself for deciding on dinner in my head while walking, Mi!
Fifteen minutes later not a peep from the cooker! Also, a strange smell. Of course we assumed it was not our kitchen. Then anyway, seconds later I thought I’d check and imagine my surprise to see fumes coming from around the handle of the cooker! Gosh. And when I touched the weight, no hissing! I quickly turned off the stove. And waited.
Then of course we had a small conference in the kitchen, contemplating over the next step. I absolutely forbade everyone to touch the cooker. Simply because I recalled how, years ago, we had attempted to open the cooker and the next thing we knew was….
rice rice everywhere and all the walls did stink!
rice rice everywhere and nary a thought to think!
Yeah okay … and I remembered how chunks had stuck to the ceiling and the walls and practically every possible surface and utensil. And there 9-year-old Vidur was, impatiently waiting to leave for school, pacing the living room. And you, you were so worked up about it until I thrust a cup of coffee in your hand and ordered you to sit in your chair until I came back from dropping off Vidur, so we could tackle the mess together. We made such lame jokes over that!
Gosh. As an aside, a few years ago, someone visited and wanted to know what happened to the kitchen ceiling when she saw the wipe marks.
So anyway–we decided to wait ten minutes. Then I opened the cooker. The water in it had evaporated and hence the fumes. Turned out the gasket was loose. So no pressure. So water evaporated.
What about dinner? I had kept kabuli chana, rice and aalu. All had perfectly cooked. Go figure!
Anyway, we enjoyed our dinner.
Yesterday I made chhole puri.
Today I made dum aloo.
So …. all is well that ends well, it seems.
Funny no? I didn’t even stress over it. My only worry was opening the cooker too soon because–ugh–cleaning up would be horrendous.
Okay, I am going for a walk.