Thanks to everyone who commented positively on this dialogue with my mother. Yes, we all need some entertainment, especially during this pandemic lockdown to ease the tension, and my mother provides me with plenty of opportunities to enjoy life with her every day. I feel blessed to still have my mother at this age and to serve her, a rare blessing from God. As my brother-in-law says, I don’t know how I’ll manage my life without her in the future, provided I live that long. My only wish and prayer to the Lord is to take us both together so that I never have to live in a world without my mother.
This is just one dialogue with my mother; we’ve had countless others on topics like my cooking, making pickles, and giving her health instructions. If I compiled them all, they would make great entertainment for many.
For example, whenever I take my mother to see the doctor, whom we’ve been visiting for over 15 years, we often end up arguing in front of him about various issues. He laughs and enjoys it, even saying, “Let her complain; I enjoy it! Your mother is the only patient who makes me smile. I love her strong personality, though I do feel sorry for you sometimes. I wish more patients like her visited us; they’d lighten up our monotonous hospital life.”
She also comments on my cooking at the ashram or when I make large batches of pickles to share with others every year. Here’s one such dialogue:
Tiffin Battle:
– Me: Amma, shall I make idli for tiffin?
– My mother: These days, I don’t like the smell of idli.
– Me: How about dosa?
– My mother: It’s too oily for me.
– Me: Wheat flour dosa?
– My mother: Too messy.
– Me: Rava dosa?
– My mother: You won’t mix it properly, and it’ll turn out stiff. Better leave it.
– Me: Ragi dosa?
– My mother: Better to eat ragi modda (kali in Tamil).
– Me: Pongal?
– My mother: You’ll use too much pepper and no ghee, and it’ll be sticky.
– Me: Uppuma?
– My mother: Is uppuma even tiffin?
– Me: Rice flake uppuma (aval in Tamil, poha in Hindi)?
– My mother: All the same!
– Me: You like rice uppuma. How about that?
– My mother: You’ll make it too pasty.
– Me: Idli uppuma?
– My mother: It’ll be too sour.
– Me: Semiya kichdi?
– My mother: It’ll look like worms.
– Me: Sevai (rice noodles/idiyappam)?
– My mother: You don’t have the patience to make the dough properly and steam it right.
– Me: Puri and potato?
– My mother: Too much oil, and potatoes cause gas.
– Me: Chapati?
– My mother: Do I have teeth to eat chapati?
– Me: Variety rice like coconut or lemon rice?
– My mother: Since when are they considered tiffin?
– Me: Vegetable rice?
– My mother: Is this the age to eat oily vegetable rice?
– Me: Adai (mixed lentil dosa)?
– My mother: It won’t digest easily and causes heartburn.
– Me: Sundal (steamed pulses)?
– My mother: Are you mocking me?
– Me: Curd rice?
– My mother: I already had that for lunch.
– Me: So, what should I make?
– My mother: Whatever you like. If I like it, I’ll eat it. Otherwise, I’ll just have a spoon of buttermilk rice and lie down quietly.
– Me: You eat everything at my brother’s house without complaint, but here you argue about everything. At your daughter’s house, you eat whatever she gives you, even if it’s not good.
– My mother: I can’t say anything against my daughter-in-law at your brother’s house. And if I criticize my daughter’s cooking, her husband will say, ‘See, your mother also agrees with me.’
– Me: So what should I make now?
– My mother: Don’t talk too much like a woman! Make one dosa, but don’t use too much oil. And don’t skimp on the oil in the chilli powder (milagai podi). Add extra sugar; I don’t have diabetes like you. Also, make sure there’s fresh curd. Don’t make the dosa too thin, but don’t make it like a pancake either. Fortunately, you never got married—some woman escaped!
– Me: And another daughter-in-law escaped from you! You always have something to say.
– My mother: Live as long as I have, and you’ll understand my complaints. Besides, if we eat without commenting, the food won’t digest!
– Me: Do you really need this much sugar?
– My mother: Let me eat what I want! Don’t tell me what to eat or not eat. If I die, I’ll die happily eating what I like.
– Me: You’ve gained weight, and eating more sugar will only add to it.
– My mother: So what? Are you going to carry me when I die? Four people will come for that! The government already tells us not to go out, not to eat together, not to talk, and now you’re adding ‘don’t eat sugar or salt’ to the list.
– Me: I’m only saying what the doctor said.
– My mother: Don’t follow everything doctors say. When it comes to food, eat what you like and do what you think is right.
– Me: You’re the only one who complains about my cooking. Others like it, and our ashram guests enjoy my food.
– My mother: That just shows how bad their wives’ cooking is! You’re not a monk, you’re a butler! If you’d opened a hotel, you’d have made more money by now.
– Me: Even your other son, his wife, your daughter, and your grandchildren like my cooking.
– My mother: For people from Chennai, anything outside is always tastier.
– Me: Then why do you eat so much of my pickle?
– My mother: Did I ask you to make such good pickle? You think you were born knowing how to cook?
Conclusion: She finally had one small dosa with a bit of milagai podi (chilli powder) mixed with lots of sugar and a cup of fresh curd. Tomorrow, I’ll be making idli again. Oh God, how am I going to manage her?
23-6-2021
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