A Walk Down Memory Lane

Once in a while I  take a walk down memory lane. And whilst on the way,gather some  bits and pieces of my childhood. A few moments ago ,I ventured on this nostalgic journey  again. I stopped  for a moment, when I envisaged my childhood home, where I had spent  great many years of happy times with my family, I mentally zoomed  in to the dining hall,where my large family used to  gather during  mealtimes.Whisperings, followed by loud laughter would  erupt throughout the hallway, which would quickly   be silenced by the food that would soon be laid on the table. Mother would painstakingly prepare part of the breakfast while  my siblings and I would wait impatiently around the breakfast table for Father, who would bring the main part of the breakfast,the freshly baked bread from the Baker, which we all took delight in eating, with the coconut “sambol” ( chutney ) Mother made. Even though we had a choice for breakfast, we always tried to eat Mother’s favorite. With stinging eyes and  runny nose, my whole body would be encircled with a burning sensation. I wouldn’t give up!! Hastily gulping water in between each morsel, I would fan myself with the morning newspaper, to cool that sweltering in me and pretend that everything was just fine. I would n’t dislodge from the breakfast table till I finished the last mouthful of that spicy coconut sambol, which was a mixture of scrapped coconut, red chilly ,green chilly and chopped onions sprinkled with lemon juice and salt. This was my mother’s  specialty! A simple dish made with great labour of love.

Goodness me! Now I have  partially  regained my composure from my reminiscence  and still in the  state of  drooling, walk toward the kitchen looking for scrap, crumb and pieces of ingredients to prepare my favourite  breakfast dish.

Eek! A Snake

Whether this is a verse, a canto,a stanza or whatever that may deem fit to denote in one word the writing I have herein put in black and white, was instigated  by a rattle snake which stayed overnight at my parent's home during my younger days. The snake was not inflicted in any way, as it went back quietly to where it belonged.( the zoo)

One Sunday,

This slimy creature

Wrapped well in shiny leather

Came in through the door, left ajar

Mother unaware

Engrossed deep in the

Sunday Paper

Then She thought

It was the figmentation

Of her imagination

When she sensed company

Bewildered..

She gaped

When she saw this slimy  creature

Cosily coiled up in

Father’s favourite chair.

Digitally created

Mother's Musings

How time has flown ! My oldest daughter was just 3 months old ,and travelled in a bassinet in a flight from our native land  to Saudi Arabia.I had gone home for my delivery and returned back to the kingdom ,with the first born who was  just a few months old. Harking back to that day, more memories of days gone by, flood my mind.

Even though she  towers over me now.I still envisage her as the  little girl who kept me on my toes all day. She would be with me where ever I went.Creeping  into the the kitchen , she would imitate me. Many times I had to hunt for the spoons and spatulas that she would take to play  and misplace them somewhere in the house.There were times I had laughed in silence at the way she played with the household items , as if they were her play mates.

And now I cannot imagine how the time had gone by. This March she will be sitting for her class 12^th, board exams and thus finish school. She’ll be entering another phase in her life.Although my husband and I would continue to encourage and guide her,  it will be her  decision in opting for what is good for her, academic wise. 

During childhood and throughout their adolescent years, we as parents, make decisions for  our children. As they pass through the  metamorphic stage, transforming into adults, they become remarkably wise  to make  their own decisions ,which would be the starting point to their future, whether academic or otherwise.Thus We have to accept and respect the choices they make. 

Another interesting incident that keeps flashing in my mind is that particular day back in 1999, when she was in the first grade and was  going to sit for her term exams for the very first time. And I being an over anxious mother advised her to pray quietly and turn to God , if she found anything difficult. And back came her answer, “that’s cheating mom” .

Recounting this to her today, she went red in the face.

Moringa Magic

It was an email sent to me that impelled me to  delve into more information on this miracle tree and in so doing,(thanks to the internet ) I was awe- strucked  getting to know invaluable facts about it’s the rich  resources.  The  Moringa  tree  is extraordinary. It  is  is extensively  cultivated and harvested throughout the year in most of the African and South Asian countries.What is so extraordinary about this tree is, that  every part of  it is  enriched with nutrients and medicinal values: the leaves are full of antioxidants, the oil in the seeds can be used for cooking purposes and making cosmetics .According to a moringa cultivator, whose moringa  cultivation is documented by the discovery channel on You Tube, the  roots could  be used as tea and the juice extracted from the scrapped trunk could be applied on bruises and cuts. 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

All of  us  in the family love the vegetable ‘drum sticks ‘ , the moringa pod . I grew up being familiar  with the  moringa tree, which stood in the front yard of  my parents' home, ( this was  another reason why I became curious to know more about it). My late mother cooked delicious food using the leaves and the pod .During the month of fasting , she used to make rice porridge, with moringa leaves added to it. We enjoyed  it’s unusual flavour. Even the people from the neighbourhood used to  come over to our garden to pluck moringa leaves. In later years, due to unavoidable circumstances, the tree  had to be cut down. It’s a pity we never knew the significance of the tree then..Perhaps had we known, the tree would be still  in sight,  in front of the ancestral home.


Here is a recipe for  a delicious delicacy using the moringa pod ( drumsticks)

Hearth  and Soul Blog Hop

From The Animal Kingdom

Courtesy : Email Circulation

Breakfast

-This is my response to Today's prompt at www oneminutewriter.com . "Describe in detail your favorite breakfast as a child."-


My siblings and I would wait uncomplainingly around the breakfast table for Father ,who would bring the freshly baked bread from the Bakery, which we all took delight in eating ,with the coconut “sambol” Mother made. Even though we had a choice for breakfast, we always tried to eat Mother’s favorite. With stinging eyes and a runny nose, my whole body would be encircled with a burning sensation . I wouldn’t give up!! Hastily gulping water in between each morsel, I would fan myself with the morning newspaper, to cool that sweltering in me and pretend that everything was just fine. I would n’t dislodge from the breakfast table till I finished the last mouthful of that spicy coconut sambol , which was a mixture of scrapped coconut, red chilly ,green chilly and chopped onions sprinkled with lemon juice and salt. This was Mother’s delight!