Tosses come in different forms.
And through unexpected quarters.
This happened a while ago while I was in college.
Our Gujarati neighbor loved our fetish to their dishes and would lavish us with their home-made goodies.
If one day was Puri with typical Gujarai bhaji, next day would be fluffy khaman dhokla with the best mint and date chutney to die for. And then their paav bhaji…oh it was a beautiful drool world that I lived in.
My beautiful, loving caring, late mom though didn’t share much of my thoughts or feelings. She was against adding a pinch of sugar to even out the tastes. So you can imagine…..!
For the uninitiated, Gujaratis are from the lovely Western Indian state of Gujarat who love an excess sprinkling of sugar in their cuisine. Not just in their desserts….
So one day they came to our house, as usual with containers laden with good food. This time around they also brought a bottle of pickled mangoes.
Later, after a sumptuous meal, when we were chatting, my mom came into the room smiling.
I was thinking: This smile doesn’t come out on occasion like this, especially after eating a Gujarati meal.
She said: “Thank you so much for the wonderful food. I really loved that jam. How do you make it?”
After a few seconds of utter and terrible silence, the lady who had been beaming a proud smile till then said in a glum tone:
“That jam is actually our pickle.”