It's funny how with just a change of time makes things feel precious to us. The other day the husband came home feeling triumphant with a block of our favourite paneer. I am not much of a paneer lover yet the sight of new ingredients made us happy. Though not on her usual track, life sure has found a new normal to carry on.
The daughter is becoming naughtier day by day and she has a quirky sense of humour too. The other day I was talking to my brother on phone about how this time is so confusing. How we never had imagined that something like this could happen to the human race and so on. After I finished talking, the little 6 years old came to me and asked for something to eat. It was just 7 in the evening and they had their snacks and a drink around 5.30. On questioning, she replied, like you and Mamu (uncle), my tummy is super confused too. It can't keep track of the time and feel hungry all the time.
"Maa, what are you cooking today?"
I asked her while sitting on the dining table chair with a heavy thump.
She was cooking in my open kitchen with the sunlight reflecting on her sweaty face. It was 9 in the morning and I could see most of her cooking was done.
Which clearly disappointed me.
Pregnancy made me crave crazy things and on the last leg of that journey, Maa was there to indulge me and I was greedy enough to set the menu every morning. That day was different though. I could hardly sleep the night before and thought have missed my opportunity.
When my kids were small every time someone came with an wedding invitation I invariably ended up enquiring whether the menu is Bengali. You might find it queer, but not for a mother of toddlers. Attending invitations with small kids is extremely difficult. First, you need to remember and pack their things for the entire evening and then you have to be on your toes to run after them around the venue. Come dinner time, it would become more difficult. They won't be able to handle the spicy food so you need to feed them home-cooked food at some quiet corner, which, in a crowded wedding is next to impossible.
If like trousseau, a Bengali would-be bride is ever asked to gather her spice-box, mustard would be the first one she would put safely in her secret stash.
Yes, Mustard is that indispensable ingredient of our pantry, the disappearance of which could cause a serious heart attack in many like me. Especially in a Ghoti household where Macher Jhal stands for Sorshe and aam kasundi (raw mango mustard sauce)is sprinkled on anything to make it edible.
Today is the 19th day of India under lockdown. Something that started with a lot of apprehensions and fears slowly is becoming a new normal. People working from home as much as possible. Kids learning through online classes and each of us is trying our best to make sense of this changing time in our own unique way.
The time sure is tough and at times heartbreaking. While we all stay home to fight this deadly virus, thousands of migrant workers started their journey to reach home. Just think of their plight. No work, no money and no assurance whether there would be any food the day after. The kids as young as 3-4 years old are there too and together they are walking, carrying their belongings to reach home which is 700-800 Kms away.