Tag Archives: kitchen


I eyed the top shelf of our minuscule kitchen’s cabinet. I couldn’t reach it, even If I tried to stretch the five feet one inch height I am blessed with. Normally I am not bothered about my height, but there are times in which I wish I had six inches more. I knew there was a ladder in the outside storage room. I rejected the idea to fetch it inside. It was a bit heavy for me.

I was making Kung Pao Shrimp for lunch, and it needed the Rice Vinegar which had somehow made the top shelf its’ abode, and I couldn’t bring it down. I put the wobbly chair in front of the cabinet. I felt very daring, as I climbed onto it, praying at the same time to our dear God not to let me fall down to the floor, and break my precious bones. They are at the fragile stage where they need copious amount of Vitamin D.

I made it safely down the chair.  A moment did occur in which I made a frantic grab for the handle on the door to steady myself. A calamity was averted, and lunch got made.




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The Last Breath

The fishes arrived from a friend. I cleaned the first three — only one was left. As I picked the last one (it was big), I could see it was still breathing. 

It’s’ mouth hung open. It gasped for breath. I had never seen (before that) a breathing fish at close quarters. I was a bit frightened, and didn’t know what to do? I couldn’t cut into a living creature while it was still breathing. I left it on the kitchen counter, and left to get on with the other tasks for the day.

I came back to the kitchen after a gap of three hours, thinking by now the fish must have conked off. It wasn’t so — it was still breathing. I felt an un-explained fear in my heart. I rang the bell for the help to come, and take it away.

For days I was haunted by the fish that wouldn’t die. What was keeping it alive? I don’t know. For a year, or so I couldn’t eat fish, and the ones I had cleaned that day — I sent them to a neighbor.


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Acquired Habits

Father used to collect books like trophies. His idea to relax was lying on his back and reading a book. I can’t sleep till I have done some reading. My (late) husband R deplored my habit of reading books in bed. So as not to disturb R, after finishing my work in the kitchen, I would curl up in the nook I had created there, or in the lounge and forget myself in the world of books.

For nearly a year and a half when we were away from home (because of R’s chemotherapy), and there wasn’t another room to go to, for reading I would switch on a torch, so that I won’t disturb R who would be sleeping next to me.

I can say being a bookworm came from father. It’s understandable but what about the habits I have acquired from my mother-in-law and R. One is turning on the lights as evening approaches was from her.

R objected to my sweeping the kitchen at night. He would say that it brings on bad luck. I pooh poohed the idea saying rubbish, how can cleaning the floor at night bring on bad luck.

Now that he is no longer here, I think did I bring bad luck on myself? I no longer can sweep the kitchen at night time, and I am caught up in the superstition he left me.


I’ve Become My Parents

Do you ever find yourself doing something your parents used to do when you were a kid, despite the fact you hated it back then?


One Summer

Daily Prompt: Un canned Laughter
A misused words, a misremembered song lyric, a cream pie that just happened to be there: tell us about a time you (or someone else) said or did something unintentionally

On summer Nola was five, and Shelly seven. I would fill the large bathtub in the bathroom with cold water. Both would play with their toys there. That would leave me free to quickly finish my kitchen work.

I was halfway through when Nola came running to me, with water dripping on the floor. Her eyes had gone round, and looked as large as saucers, “Mama! Did you know? Brother has got a tail.”


Plants and Home

Daily Prompt: The Name’s The Thing
Have you ever named an inanimate object? (Your car? Your laptop? The volleyball that kept you company while you were stranded in the ocean?) share the story of at least one object which you’re on a first name basis.


I have never named inanimate things, but I have told them time and again that I loved them.

To my home, every time I entered : I am happy to be back. I missed you, and I love you.
The house would silently greet me in return.

To my plants, to each and everyone I would say that I loved them. They would nod their heads at me happily in the breeze to tell me they were equally happy to see me. The trees would rustle their leaves in reply, making an indistinguishable sound.

Then there is a photograph back home of Sn (my second grandson) at a very young age. He is holding a lollipop in his hand. He looks enchanting. I would have now shown it, but it isn’t here with me.

Every time I looked at it while passing through the lounge, and going to the kitchen, I would say “I love you”.

Here is a picture of Sn which I took back home. He loved to sit in the plant container which I had positioned on the stairs.



What I liked

Most women like to buy jewelry, clothes,lingerie, shoes and branded handbags. I am sure there may be other stuff too, but at the moment my recall has reached the low level, or say zero point. For myself, I loved crockery. I could never get enough of it. Whenever I saw a piece to my liking, I had to have it. I used to gather dishes and cups the way a person hoards money.

The cupboards in my kitchen and the floor to ceiling display in my dinning room were filled to capacity. My husband would often shake his head at my crammed spaces. My friends and children knowing that I liked crockery as a gift, also bought items to my liking. Once, my daughter’s children had to carry a Lazy Susan with five dishes all the way from America to Pakistan. They were ready to ditch the heavy package in route, but my daughter didn’t let them, much to their disgust.

A few months after my husband passed away, I decided to divide the house into two portions. I moved to the upper portion. It had two bedrooms with attached bathrooms, a small spare room and a long verandah in front. My husband had added another kitchen upstairs on the side of the terrace. There was a servant room with bathroom to one side of it too.

I had to part with most of my beloved items. There was no space for them upstairs. I gave away most of my things, much to the delight of my friends and relatives. In the beginning I had terrible pangs of regret, but thankfully they have subsided. My son would often say to me, “mama,you are allowed only two pieces of baggage by air. All your stuff is going to be left behind, you can never carry it with you.” So true.

Below is a picture of my favorite cups, which I used in rotation for my morning cup of tea.


Living With A Lizard

I dislike lizards bordering on vengeance. They are so creepy, and hideous. If they didn’t try to get inside the house, I wouldn’t have disliked them that much. Somehow they find their way in.

When my husband R was alive, at least I could count on him to get rid of them. Now that I live alone, I get heart attacks every time I see one, especially when I am chasing it with a broom, and it gets entangled with my foot. I make  so much noise like someone is about to murder me. I won’t like my neighbors to hear me shrieking, but that’s what I do.

Why can’t they stay outside? With colder months coming they hide near doorways, and get inside the minute you open the door. Once they hide inside they are difficult to find except when you see them on the roof. It’s a heart stopping moment.