A Sunday Breakfast

I cooked sandwiches for breakfast today; nothing special, just kheera, pyaaj & tamatar and bread. I know I am a very lazy person and my indolence reaches its crest when it comes to accomplishing any housewifely chore, especially cooking. Anyways, so I ended up plating 4 sandwiches for breakfast and it so happened that one of them consisted of the first and the last slice of the loaf.

As we sat devouring the bread, the special one managed to find me. Now, charms of these two slices are well established to all the bread eaters. These happen to be the not so soft, thicker than the rest, with lots of crumbs falling apart kind of pieces, which are difficult to incorporate in most of the dishes. As I chewed and chewed and chewed this particularly lucky piece; a ‘Happy – Sunday’ scene from my childhood days flashed before my eyes.

Back then, a regular Sunday started with an episode of ‘Rangoli’ on television, and all of us around the dining table, a pot of tea at the center and a packet of bread to go with it. What I remember most vividly about those mornings  is that whenever we’d be on the verge of finishing a packet or starting a new one, Mumma would always intervene saying that ‘Leave the Last (or the First) slice for me, I really like it’. And naturally, we always did exactly the same. As I think about it, I am not too sure whether our reaction was due to our love for Mumma or because it was an easy solution to ‘the despicable slice’. However, the end result was always the same. In due course of time, the last/first slice became synonymous to Mumma’s plate in my mind. However, today as I sat munching that special piece, a question popped up in my mind and I wondered, ‘Did Ma really like this? This?’

There are some things which just get registered into our mind without us weighing them on their logical merit. This ‘bread slice’ thing was a similar case for me. After 27 years of existence, this was the first time that this doubt surfaced so evidently in my mind. Of course, I understand that we as individuals have very diverse tastes, likes and dislikes; but even then, there are certain things you’d never expect anyone to like and enjoy willingly. Nevertheless, today, that sandwich made me examine my Ma’s intent behind her fondness.

As I tried to delve deeper into her psyche, I remembered many more instances of her crazy preferences. She’d always pick the most blackened bananas from the lot. She’d always keep aside those roti’s which refused to rise; for herself. As a kid, I always thought that she actually liked that stuff, but now I know better. In fact, now, even she knows better, even though, she still carries on with many of these choices. Nonetheless, eventually she & I have matured sufficiently to admit & understand the true motives behind them; well most of them. However, I am still unsure about the bread slices and my search for her confession continues.

Engrossed in these thoughts, I just happened to see the clock and if we are to trust it’s hands, it’s time for me to try my hands at roti making. As I consider the proposition, I become all the more certain that I can’t repeat my Mumma’s feat in this regard, as that would end up in my eating all the roti’s that were rolled.