brooding over chai

  It was a matter of shame for a woman to eat publicly or be fanned while she ate. Women ate the leftovers, with no question of a second helping. My maternal grandmother passed away in 2013. Being one of her favorites, I was handed over some of the items that she cherished. One of them was a small thaali (plate) in which she ate. It was anomalous for she was the daughter of a rich, titled man, who later got married into a progressive family. She was also liberal and independent. Why would she eat in this plate? The question hounded me till I remembered few incidents from my childhood. My paternal grandparents lived in Burdwan, a small town in West Bengal. Baba made it a point to visit them every month and ensured that we tagged along. Ours was a joint family comprising almost forty heads. The kitchen had a main hall and an enclosed space for cooking. While the washing, chopping, and grinding happened outside, the actual cooking happened inside. The aroma would waft around announcin

She tells me about the money she has saved for medical emergencies that might crop up, and to keep her salary on hold. She has also prepared her 13-year old boy, taught him to cook, just in case. My friends here know I love cha! I have my first cup at 5.30 am with my favourite songs and prayers playing in the background, and my second cup, at 7.30 am, is always with Nomi, my friend, my domestic help. Duto biskoot, duto pauruti  (Two biscuits or two slices of bread) is always ready for her and at times a bun, and we have a chat about our  ‘shukh-dukkho’ . She talks about the happenings around. The price of veggies. The disturbance in her locality. Her husband’s refusal to take a vaccine. The party politics in her village. And then she tells me how she has prepared herself for Corona Her husband is much older than her and she is constantly worried about him. What if she brings the virus home? How will it affect them? She informs me about the money she has saved for the medical emergencie