Kabasura and Covid

Was pleasantly surprised when my highschool classmate, Maruti, called to wish me last month! It was such a delight to hear him dispensing health tips like a caring elder would. He wanted, almost commanded, me to buy a Siddha medicine to build immunity and keep covid at bay.

"You buy it otherwise I will send it from here. It is easily available in Tamil Nadu. Ok?" Just as the call ended, whatsapp promptly beeped with the name, method of preparation and the recommended dosage.

The spouse had his task cut out for the day: Buy Kabasura Kudineer. A mixture of dry leaves and twigs roughly powdered was soon home.

Twenty grams of it in 960 ml of water, reduced to one-fourth just as he had ordered. 20 minutes of delightful aroma of ginger, pepper, pippali, clove and a dozen other unpronouncible herbs, the kudineer was ready to be served in 4 tiny steel glasses.

One dainty sip and my tongue curled into my throat, eyeballs shot into my skull and all of my enormous self shivered like a leaf.  It was more acrid than anything I had ever tasted! Hadn't the heart to defy Maruti. I gulped it down and slumped on the couch.

My children threw up and refused to drink it. Covid. Not this! They hadn't heard Maruti extolling the kudineer in the tone he did! The man of the house had to gulp it down... you know. I don't like to boast and all but I am an awful good wife!

My children are now convinced I was a bitter bully back in school (also) and this is Maruti's revenge, neatly packed in a brown paper cover with a little window.

As it happens with life, I quietly gulp the bitterness once every two days. Thank you Maruti. I am not, and never was, a bully you see. But sorry just in case...

-Shashi

3-07-2020

(PS: Written before my experience with Covid 19. I was positive, home-quarantined, lived without smell and taste for months. I still believe my fling with Corona ended quick and easy, thanks to my new-found love for fitness, and Kabasura.)   

Eid in lockdown

Celebrated twenty and a couple more of eid ul fitrs so far.  It is always the same. There is comfort in consistency :) 

Sumptuous, somewhat unique,  breakfast of soft idlis, chicken curry with green masala and coconut chutney, a dollop of ghee and shakkar. The last two, needless to say, in my honour. The lone vegetarian in the family.

Much awaited mutton biryani, baingan ka saalan, chicken kebab, onion raitha and cucumber salad land on the dining table at around 2 pm, leaving just enough space for bisibele baath to comfortably, and respectfully, fit in.

And right by the side, a dessert spread as eclectic as it can get:  Tiramisu and trifle often with a cake casually thrown in, courtesy my lovely sister in law; Jamuns, mutanjan, kheer, falooda by our own cordon bleu, my mother in law;  and Mysore Pak with rave unde (semolina laddu), and kuchida kadubu (steamed dumplings stuffed with coconut and jaggery), my failed attempts at mal pua or Labong Latika complete the dessert spread. 

A lot of south Indian muslim cuisine, a measurable spread of Persian roots and a touch of Brahmin fare. That is the Eid spread in my household. Every year.

And my world seemed content in its place.

Not much different this year either. Let me take credit where it is due. No need to be modest. Main course, sides, desserts: all checked. By 12 sharp. Ahem! 

Well.

The little nephews and nieces running around in their new sherwanis, jumping off the sofa onto the glass centre table to our shrieks, a spilt glass of coke and a forgotten cup of tea.  In laws of all shades: brother-, sister-, mom- and father, friends and their kids milling around the table.

A medley of all ages, cultures, languages and a laugh riot. Sans this, the mutton lacked its dum and chicken its flavour.  

Hope Eid ul Adha is covid free.

(Written in 2020)