We sit at the Bartell's to get our flu shots.I get mine first and now its your turn.You roll up your sleeves to take up the shot in your left arm.I urge you to not look at the needle and focus on me.I keep talking, insisting you to look at me and keep talking to me.You nod your head,coyly smile and take up the shot. But my eyes well up as the needle pokes through your arm- and all this in a split second.
We eat out-I order channa batura and you biriyani.I rave about the biriyani after I taste from your plate and you nod your head in agreement.I talk about the biriyani atleast a dozen times and you did not seem to have an issue with things being repeated.We pack the left overs-one batura and 3 spoonfuls of biriyani home and Iask you if you will take them for lunch tomorrow so I don't need to cook, you say yes.
I come down after 9 in the morning the next day and you are already gone to work.I open the refrigerator to make sure you remembered to take your lunch and I notice the small biriyani box in the corner of a shelf.I smile, take the box out, warm it and eat it.I know the lunch wouldn't have been sufficient for you with just one batura, but this love of yours for me is sufficient to last a lifetime.
that I cooked for dinner today tasted good, infact very good.Was it the memory of amma neatly layering coconut and the puttu podi or was it the memory of me circling around the kitchen trying to smell the fresh steam coming out of the puttu maker?Nah, I think it was also the mental picture of the corner hotel where I used to go and order " chetta oru puttum kadalayum parcel cheyyane" and how I would keep smelling the puttu wrapped in a fire roasted banana leaf all the way back home - all the memories came flooding and with every bite, the puttum kadalayum warmed my heart and my taste buds