Life can be traumatizing for a retired person who has lost his wife of 65 years.
He is at a loose end in a huge house.
What is the meaning of this life?
Why stay alive?
One misses one's wife for various reasons. She was the companion, the friend, the go to person and general man Friday who made life meaningful.
She cooked, kept everyone in line, and maintained cordial relations with the hordes of pesky relatives and others with a smile. Every one just loved her.
Without her, the buffer is gone.
Everyone wants a piece of the main man.
The questions are many and diverse.
"What to do about this? How is this to be handled? What should we cook? Do you want this or that?"
A hundred questions dog his footsteps wherever he moves.
He wants to stay quiet, not have to deal with anyone and be generally left alone.
But yes, he must be served tasty food at the right time every day as per his need. Just a little in quantity but of impeccable quality.
He misses his wife so much and talks to her photo as if she were still there.
One major topic is the food that she cooked for him and how no one else seems to have any idea how to cook right.
She knew the various tricks needed to make something taste just perfect. Yummmm soul satisfying food.
She is a tough act to follow for any one.
Daughters, daughter in law, cook, dhaba wala, neighbours, other relatives. No one cooks like she did.
Would the Kitchens of India (http://shopping.kitchensofindia.com/) Chicken Darbari and Chicken Methi do the trick?
Will he like them as he liked the chicken curry that she cooked?
Even though a vegetarian, she cooked chicken for him, grumbling, and making him put the raw chicken into the pot so that she did not have to touch it by hand. It came out perfectly seasoned. Such was her expertise.
I am going to find out if this chicken out of a packet thing works for him. If it does, then his issue of tasty food will be solved. He can open a pack and have a gourmet party whenever he feels like it.
Here is to hoping!
Anything is possible. No?
He is at a loose end in a huge house.
What is the meaning of this life?
Why stay alive?
One misses one's wife for various reasons. She was the companion, the friend, the go to person and general man Friday who made life meaningful.
She cooked, kept everyone in line, and maintained cordial relations with the hordes of pesky relatives and others with a smile. Every one just loved her.
Without her, the buffer is gone.
Everyone wants a piece of the main man.
The questions are many and diverse.
"What to do about this? How is this to be handled? What should we cook? Do you want this or that?"
A hundred questions dog his footsteps wherever he moves.
He wants to stay quiet, not have to deal with anyone and be generally left alone.
But yes, he must be served tasty food at the right time every day as per his need. Just a little in quantity but of impeccable quality.
He misses his wife so much and talks to her photo as if she were still there.
One major topic is the food that she cooked for him and how no one else seems to have any idea how to cook right.
She knew the various tricks needed to make something taste just perfect. Yummmm soul satisfying food.
She is a tough act to follow for any one.
Daughters, daughter in law, cook, dhaba wala, neighbours, other relatives. No one cooks like she did.
Would the Kitchens of India (http://shopping.kitchensofindia.com/) Chicken Darbari and Chicken Methi do the trick?
Will he like them as he liked the chicken curry that she cooked?
Even though a vegetarian, she cooked chicken for him, grumbling, and making him put the raw chicken into the pot so that she did not have to touch it by hand. It came out perfectly seasoned. Such was her expertise.
I am going to find out if this chicken out of a packet thing works for him. If it does, then his issue of tasty food will be solved. He can open a pack and have a gourmet party whenever he feels like it.
Here is to hoping!
Anything is possible. No?
good one. Both my grannies were like this no eating non veg, but cooking for the family
ReplyDeleteThanks desi Traveler. I think this was a common practice in North India.
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