Tag Archives: Parathas


When my husband R was alive, we had this tradition that on Sunday we would have parathas and omelette for breakfast, and a rice pulao for lunch. The rice pulao was cooked with mutton, chic peas and raisins. We never deviated from this ritual. It was like I was carrying over the traditional food of my own childhood. 

R loved parathas. If he had his way, we would have been eating them everyday. It would have been too grueling for me to make them daily. When he had his open heart surgery (ninety eight percent of his arteries were clogged) the doctor told him that he should stop having egg yolks. He only abstained for a month. He couldn’t forgo his omelette.

Another tradition was getting up late on Sundays. We would get up to say our Fajr prayer, then go to sleep again to wake up at ten. Then I had to rush through everything, so Sunday was a really hectic day for me.

With Son having parathas is a thing of the past. There was a time when he thought that to forgo a paratha was a big crime. He is concerned now that eating it is not healthy, and I’m happy that I don’t have to cook it for his sake.



Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.


Bringing Back Memories

Daily Prompt: Climate Control
The idea that the weather and people’s moods are connected is quite old. Do you agree? If yes how does the weather affects your mood?

Weather does affect a person’s mood. A near relative of mine, who lived in Seattle for a year found it depressing. Why? Because of the cloudy sky and constant rain. She is very fond of sunny days. If the sun is out there and shinning, she feels sunny and bright.

For myself, I don’t like dust storms. Dust seems to find its way through closed doors and windows. It always puts me into a black mood. You clean every minuscule of dust to find it back again on every thing. I don’t like the back tiring cleaning of my home.

Different weather reminds me of various phases of my life. It brings back memories.

Early morning, when the sun is slowly climbing the horizon, and if there is smell of a wood fire, it reminds me of my mother-in-law. In her days gas had not reached my husband’s village.

My in-laws grew trees for wood fire on their property. So early morning my mother-in-law along with two maids, would be making tea and parathas. It was for the hired hands, who helped with farming. The smell of wood fire was great.

Personally I feel that food cooked on wood fire is always delicious. It tastes marvelous.

Thunder storms and rain brings back memories of Sylhet, Bangla Desh where my son was born. We (my husband and I) occupied and shared the house with another family. We lived on the upper floor.

We were surrounded by the towering trees. I simply loved it. The only drawback was the clap of thunder and lightning. My newborn son would shake and jump a mile in his cot, with every deafening clap of thunder.


When the weather is cold, and there is a wind blowing, I get back to another period of my life. My husband loved the brightness of bougainvilleas’ flowers. They were a great many of them. Some he had coaxed, to climb up to the terrace of our home. They looked spectacular.

They shed their flowers every day. I was fed up with them. They littered the terrace. Another downside was the neighboring cats climbing up to the terrace on them. The cats left their poos amongst my rooftop garden of plants. That used to be very tiring.

I persuaded my dear husband with great difficulty to remove the bougainvilleas. He was not happy about it. There was a flowering Jasmine alongside of the Bougainvilleas, which climbed the wall to the terrace. I just forgot to tell my husband not to cut it. It’s white flowers smell was heavenly. I mourned it’s loss.

Good riddance to the bougainvilleas. They created more work for me.


Bringing Back Memories

A Sunday Paratha

Daily Prompt: Time after Time
Traditions we’ve all got them. They might be family dinners on special occasions, or having a particular kind of cake on your birthday (Jeanne Cake, natch), or popcorn at the movies, or meeting your friend for a 5k run in the park, rain or shine, every Sunday morning. What are your favorite traditions, large and small? What is about your traditions that keep them going strong for you?

The ritual we had was having Paratha for breakfast every Sunday.

Let me explain to those who are baffled by the word . Paratha is dough, patted into a round 6 to 7 inches in diameter or a bigger round. It is then fried in oil till cooked.

It is delicious if made by a person who really knows how to make it properly. It is crunchy and every bite melts in one’s mouth. If the dough is made with butter added to it, and again before it is made into a round, it tastes really great.

My paternal aunt Afroze was one of those people who knew how to make mouth watering parathas. I have eaten parathas made by my sister. She is one expert maker. The third person I came across is my husband’s niece.

In the beginning after I got married, I had no idea of anything to make or cook. I learned gradually and now I think (haha — my own inflated opinion) I am quite good.

My husband loved them made by me, so I can upgrade myself to good – good. 😊

I stopped following the ritual after he became diabetic and had open heart surgery. He couldn’t give up on having a paratha and occasionally I made it for him.

If you want to learn, I am sure there are recipes on Internet. The best is to watch a video. My favorite one is Shireen Anwar on Masala TV, Pakistan. She shows how to make Aloo (potato) paratha, egg paratha and cottage cheese one. You will have to find a translator as the video is in Urdu. Even if you don’t find one the ingredients are written in English also and you can watch how she makes the stuffed parathas.
I hope the video works. If not there are lots of videos on UTube.

A Sunday Paratha