The Redemption
Khushnuma would wake up early. Make tea for herself, without sugar, lots of mint leaves. While the tea would simmer, she would start cutting the onions. She would slice them thin without using a chopping board. She would pour generous amount of oil and leave the onions to saute.
As the onions would slowly change their color, she would sip her tea. And then was the time for the spices. Cardamon, cinnamon, cloves, bay leaf and the dance of aromas would continue in her kingdom. Her kitchen!
Naushir, Khushnuma’s son, who had fled home when he was eighteen was back with her after ten years. His father’s demise was the reason. Naushir, always, had a love hate relationship with his mother.
It was a family reunion of sorts. Both the married daughters of the Pithawala family were obviously present for the charam. (Fourth day prayers for the departed soul when the family together eats, preferably, Dhansak)
While chewing into the delicious meat pieces laced in the Masala Dal and caramelized rice, everyone was waiting for a special announcement that Khushnuma was going to make. Naushir was simply lost in the Dhansak. It had been long since he relished his mother’s delicacies. Khushnuma was more than glad that the family was present and she was happy to cook the entire meal by herself.
After the prayers, Khushnuma, pulled out Maneck’s will. The huge palatial Mumbai Bungalow was to be sold and the proceeds were to be used to pay off the debts of the Pithawala's failing business. Each of the kids would get equal share of whatever was left after paying the last penny to the creditors. The cottage in Panchgani was where Khushnuma would spend the rest of her life and that was the only property that would be inherited by the one who would take care of Khushnuma till her last breath.
After the usual bickering and tonnes of convincing, the daughters left with their clan.
The elder one, Jeroo, bickered about how unfair their father had been. She even cried how she had contributed so much for the hospital bills.
The younger one, Gulrukh tried convincing Khushnuma to sell off the Panchgani cottage and live with them. She promised she would take good care of her.
Sam Uncle had left and requested Naushir to stay back for a week or two before returning to Kolkatta.
Unwillingly, Naushir stayed back.
For the first few days, there was hardly any exchange of words. One day Naushir happened to wake up early. He preferred coffee to mint tea. He made coffee for himself and mint tea for his mom.
When Khushnuma walked to the marble top dinning table, she was greeted with Mint tea in tea pot and akuri pav. Naushir greeted her with a smile. She was pleased. She relished someone else's culinary skills for the first time. For her, her kitchen was her domain. No one was allowed to enter. But she didn’t mind. “Mithoo thodu jasti che, pan majheni che… Akuri.” The veteran gave the verdict. For Naushir, it meant a lot.
From there on, the two picked up the broken pieces of their shaky relationship and salvaged whatever they could. Khushnuma guided him into making some amazingly authentic, delicious Parsi cuisine. He, in turn, showed her some of his hundred and one egg recipes. She reigned in her supremacy however by suggesting some additions to his concoctions.
While the others of the Pithawala clan were busy doing the formalities of getting out of the financial mess Maneck had left behind the two were cooking up a storm in the kitchen.
After that; he never complained, she never explained.
A week long stay turned to almost a month long homecoming. It was time to move out of the Mumbai Bungalow. It also meant that one of the siblings had to take the responsibility of their mother. The Panchgani cottage was the matter of contention between the siblings. Not so much for Naushir.
Naushir packed his bag and was about to move, when suddenly the very familiar aromas reached him from his mom’s kitchen. He couldn’t resist since he knew it was the Dum Biryani. Khushnuma had woken up early and had cooked it specially for him. She was gently sealing the lid with the dough when Naushir pulled by the aromas peeped from the kitchen door.
“Dum maro Dum” he teasingly sang like he did always. Khushnuma continued, “Biryani Garam” Tears rolled down her cheeks.
Naushir relished every bit of the finger licking recipe. Khushnuma simply gazed at him and was happy serving him the delicacy. She wished so much, it would not be the last time.
She didn’t speak but her eyes conveyed, she didn’t want Naushir to leave.
Naushir had made a life for himself in Kolkatta where he had fled to Uncle Sam’s house. After having worked with him at his restaurant Naushir had started his own little nook named Egg-let where he served hundred and one varieties of egg dishes and mint tea. He had a Chinese girl friend who he lived-in with.
There was no way he was going to stay back with Khushnuma but she tried one last time. “Don’t go!” she said.
Flashes from the past struck Naushir. He sat down for a while looking at the trophies in the glass show case. Not one belonged to him. He wasn’t as good as his sisters, neither in academics nor in sports. He, like his mom, loved food and loved cooking. Maneck never thought it could be a profession. He wanted his son to be a Doctor since all his cousins in Pithawala family were Doctors and since he could never be one, he wanted to pass the burden of his failed aspirations onto Naushir.
Naushir had expected his mom to stand by him but she was too docile in front of Maneck. Maneck had his way and Naushir took up science. He tried. Tried really hard but he just couldn’t. His sisters were both married off to Doctors and every time the Pithawala clan met at a Navjote or Lagan, it was like everyone would talk disease and medicines. And of course, the family joke was to tease Naushir by labeling him Doctor Naushir, knowing quite well he wasn’t very intellectually inclined.
Naushir failed miserably in the entrance exam and finally gathered courage to stand up to his father and say he didn’t want to study further. Maneck put a condition that if Naushir would leave his studies, he would have to leave the Pithawala home and fend for himself. Naushir chose the later option. He expected his mother to stand by him but she didn’t. His sisters were caught up in their own lives and never really had the courage to go against their father’s decision.
The least Khushnuma could do for Naushir, was to arrange for his stay at her brother Sam’s home in Kolkatta. Ten years is a long long time for a mother and son to not speak to each other. Naushir blamed his mom all these years for his exile of sort. While the two sisters enjoyed all the privileges and the love of their parents Naushir felt, he had to be deprived of all that only because he wasn’t academically inclined.
Khushnuma was the only one he had confessed his aspirations to. She knew exactly that he never did want to pursue further studies, definitely not science. Destiny had brought them back face to face in the same home for them to hash it out.
As mush as he loved his mother’s cooking ,he hated her for what she had not done. He knew very well that now was the time when he could get back to her by leaving her when she needed him the most. He did just that. He walked out of the Pithawala residence leaving her all by herself. The Panchgani property not attractive enough to lure him. Materialistic privileges never did entice him ever.
Seven kilometers into his onward journey, glimpses of his huge Panchgani home flashed upon him. He realised his mother would never depend upon her daughters. The Panchgani home was inherited by them from their maternal side. He took a U turn. It was time for redemption!
He walked up to the door. Rang the bell. The door was left open. He walked in. Khushnuma was sitting on the easy-chair. Naushir walked with soft steps as in to give her a surprise. Instead Khushnuma surprised him. On the side table besides her easy chair lay a letter with a book. Khushnuma had willed the Panchgani cottage to Naushir and left the earthly plane.
Everyone was there at the Paidas. Jeroo, her husband and kids left. Gulrukh, her husband and her kids too.
Sam called out to Naushir. When I finally asked, “So you couldn’t redeem your your mother’s unspoken love.” He moved two spaces, halted, asked Sam to wait for a while. He moved back to me and from a leather bag removed a book. It was titled Khusnuma’s recipes. There was a book mark in form of a red thread which stood at the page of the Biryani recipe. Naushir showed me the book and said, “You are absolutely correct KEki KaKA, I could have never redeemed her unspoken love for me but more so I could have never redeemed the natural skill, I gained by observing her cook.”
As I turned one leaf after other, the lingering aroma trapped in the pages could be sensed. I handed the book to Naushir. He smiled and said, “But she redeemed her silence in these written words, these authentic recipes.”… “Panchgani aavon toh aavjo ghere, Biryani khava, KEki kaKA.” He fondly said and left.
KEki kaKA
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