Tag Archives: Peshawar Club

Slog

The family was going out for Pot Luck to a local mosque. We had to take a dish. On Eid day my daughter Nola had made Chick Peas Chat for the Eid get together at a park. Nola being busy with her studies it was left to me to make something.

I slogged over the hot stove to make Pakoras. It has been a while that I would cook for parties, or get togethers. Back in home country when my late husband was alive, we used to invite our guests to a local restaurant, or to Peshawar Club. It was the easy way out.

Making things in bulk is not my thing. I filled a large bowl with the huge mixture. Mixing it with a wooden spoon was hard enough for me. My wrists started aching.  Nola forgets to buy an electric Mixer when she goes for grocery. I am used to my electric gadgets. Without them I am lost. 

Hot oil splattered on my left arm while I was making Pakoras. It is an angry burn. I am careful, but still mishaps happen. I ran cold water on it when it happened.

Finally both trays were ready. The only person who wasn’t ready was me. Perspiring, I wanted to cool down before taking a bath, and change clothes. There wasn’t time. I decided to stay back, and enjoy my solitude.

…..

DAILY PROMPT

Slog

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

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Unexpected Guest

Daily Prompt: Unexpected Guests
You walk into your home to find a couple you don’t know sitting in your living room, eating a slice of cake. Tell us what happens next.

Unexpected guests have come innumerable times to our home.

Once I got up from my afternoon sleep, and was going to the kitchen to heat milk for the children, and make tea for my husband R. I noticed the door to the drawing room ajar.

I looked in, and saw a woman sitting on the sofa. Someone must have let her in. She was waiting for us to wake up.

I was caught in my sleepy attire. Now that she had seen me, I couldn’t rush off to change. Hiding my embarrassment, I greeted her.

The lady was a widow. She was living in an accommodation at the Peshawar Club. She told me that she had been asked to vacate in fifteen days. It was a sob story. My poor heart melted into tears of sympathy at the injustice to her.

R was the president of the club at that time. I was in righteous indignation at the callous, and cold hearted attitude of R, in turning out a poor widow.

I promised her, that I would persuade my husband. I gave her tea, and waved her good bye.

When I asked R if he could help her, he started laughing.
He asked me, “Do you know who she is?”
“No.”
“She is the owner of all those buildings (he mentioned quite a few), on The Mall. She gets a considerable amount from the said properties. She must be renting out her own home. She have been occupying the club accommodation for the past eighteen years. It is meant for those members of the club, who can’t afford the pricey hotels, and that for a short while.
She is abusing the rights of those members, who are needy.
Do you want me to break the rules for her?”

Of course I was speechless. What could I say?

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Unexpected Guest