Most
moms of India might have experienced the hurry-burry of trying to get their
child to eat something before they leave for School/College. Or at least of
getting them carry their tiffin boxes with them.
If
we are even one minute late the child tends to run out with a ‘I’m late. I
can’t wait’ attitude and we see moms running behind them with a “here, at least
drink this milk”, glass in hand.
I remember my own mom slipping a box of hot
chappaties down a small gap in our fence in the Nilgiris. It was a hill station
and I had to walk around our fence to reach a lower road to go to school.
But
perhaps my own crazy action a few days ago will stay in our minds a little
longer. My College going daughter had come home for a few days after a gap of
two and a half months. Now that got me mad with excitement and I hardly knew
what I was doing.
Cooking
her special dishes, seeing if the clothes I bought her fitted her well (and
whether she liked them enough to agree using them), listening to her College
stories without commenting unless she asked for it, taking her to church on
Sunday, taking her shopping locally, to friends’ houses, functions, etc.;
guiding her, watching her practice for a play, giving ideas at the appropriate
time…
Suddenly
it was almost time for her to leave and I remembered that I had sugar, butter
and eggs –just right for a cake for her. Not advisable for us at our age and
she would miss the fun of enjoying a home baked cake.
Her
dad was out of station and I had to leave her at the Railway junction on my
own. With around an hour left for us to start, I just couldn’t bear the thought
of her leaving without the cake. So I swung into action. Within 45 minutes the
cake gave out its characteristic smell and I hurried to open it without even
first testing to see if it was cooked. It wasn’t. Immediately I closed it and
switched it on again. Time wasted.
I
served her dosais and her favourite egg curry. With the remaining ten minutes,
even if I scraped the sides to get the cake out, it would be steaming hot. And
would turn to crumbs easily.
The auto sounded at our doorstep. So we locked the house and hurried.
While my daughter went to the waiting train, I went to buy my platform ticket.
I saw her peep out from her seat but spotted a cement table-top like structure,
perhaps built to hold a tank or water cooler or something but seemed specially
convenient for me. So out of the bag came my baking vessel, cake and all with
another container for it, knife and a small box to house her piece of cake.
The cake was cut and a sizable piece transferred to her small tuck box (with
a small opening to let the moisture out).
And I ultimately had time to chat with my daughter casually as the
engine shunted and went to join the front side of the train.
P.S – The cake turned out more delicious than any I
have baked so far.
No comments :
Post a Comment