It was like any other weekend morning. The kids were up and running around. The smell of fresh chai brewing and fermented idli batter came from the kitchen. She poured out the chai and passed a cup to her husband. “Thanks dear”, he smiled. She accepted it with a fresh smile and a stroke on his shoulder. And off she scurried to the kitchen. “Where’s your chai?” , he shouted after her. “It’s here, I’ll have it here!”, she replied loudly. Some days when she’s in a hurry she sips her chai in the kitchen itself, amidst all her chores.
“Mummy, can we have dosa instead of idli?”, came in the kids questioning. She gave them a puzzled look. ” I thought you guys wanted idli?!” “Yes mummy, we did but the thought of thin, crispy dosas…” , they described on. She didn’t have the patience to hear anymore, “Fine”,she said, ” You can have dosas. Now, out you two!”, she said pointing to the kitchen door. Off they scooted, giggling of course.
She hurried all round the kitchen, tempering the chutney, chopping the coriander leaves, scooping out the idlis. Breakfast was almost ready, when the phone rang.
She dropped everything and ran to answer the phone. Her husband sat there, sipping his morning chai. ” Hi! I was waiting for your call” , she replied heartily. Her husband smiled as he watched her walk into the balcony with the phone.
The whole house rang with her merry voice and chatter. The kids came after a while asking for their dosas which she didn’t hear. She was down her memory lane by then, chatting away with her friend who unfailing called her every year on her birthday.
Her husband got up and called the kids and took them to the kitchen. ” I’ll make your dosas for you. Let mummy talk. She has been waiting a long time to have that talk!”