Friends Who Were My Students
A Grateful Heart, Day 12
Once upon a time, about three decades ago, the Commerce students of Mithibai College had a building all to themselves. The Humanities and the Science sections were housed in the building on the opposite side: an older building, parts of it dating back to 1960.
In one of the Commerce classes that I taught English in, there was a bunch of crazy, happy-go-lucky students in a particular class, who were always laughing: at themselves, at other people, at strange stories that they called ‘jokes’, and the weirdest antics I have ever seen. They would stand up in class and argue with the teacher for no other reason than that they loved arguments and wanted to see whether the teacher would lose her cool or play along. Among them, the most hare-brained person was this young man called Thomas. One of the ladies in the class, Shahi, decided that he was worth reforming, and had some substance after all. So she decided to marry him. I think the gentleman knew about the lady’s decision after the marriage was over.
We ordered takeaway today, from the start-up that Carlyle has begun, called the Food Window. Simple fare it was: chicken Biriyani and chicken cutlets.
The food was packed so well in their separate containers, that the aroma was sealed completely. The raita came in a separate pouch and was not dribbling from the side and leaking all over the place like I have seen many take-away raitas do. The rice was cooked just right and was in a separate container. There was a thin line of thinly sliced, crisply fried onions marching in single file over the top of the light, fragrant rice. In another container reposed succulent pieces of marinated, cooked chicken, with a light sprinkling of rice so that they wouldn’t feel lonely all by themselves.
And what do I say about the cutlets? They were filled with real chicken meat and spices and herbs: they were not deep-fried flour, oozing oil, to which a few strips of chicken were added as an afterthought. They were so flavourful that dousing them in ketchup or chutney would have been sacrilegious.
I had taken the trouble of cooking separately for the man who lives with me, since he had decided to give up non-vegetarian food and other beautiful things, like ghee-laden sweets, and ice creams, the beautiful things I live for. But he quietly devoured all the food and pretended that he did not know what he was eating.
The food is not like homemade food: it IS homemade food. Less oil, adequately spiced, fresh ingredients, and cooked with love and without cutting corners. And the English teacher in me revels in the thought that he has used the definite article ‘the’ before ‘food window.’
Now wasn’t that a dainty dish to set before any queen?
©️ 2021 Suma Narayan. All Rights Reserved.
Today is Day 12, of my month-long Gratitude Calendar, which is a response to Ravyne Hawke’s November prompt, for her publication ‘Promptly Written.’ Thank you for the prompt, Ravyne. It helps us to remember the many things in our life that we take for granted.
