Another piece of fiction and a contest

Caution: The Following is a piece of fiction based on real events and real people, whose names have been changed for Chalks and Chopsticks, hosted by Bong Mom and started by Aqua. For the contest, go to the bottom of the post. For the first piece of fiction, click here.

Archana boarded the local bus and looked around for an empty seat. There was one in the middle, next to an old woman. She sat down and tried to relax. It had been another hectic day at the factory and the floor manager had made them work overtime to finish the order. Her palms had new calluses she rubbed on absent mindedly.

“Beti (daughter), are you ok?” the old woman next to her asked with concern in her voice and curiosity in her eyes.

“I am ok Maaji (mother),” she said with a quick smile. “Yes, I am ok now,” she thought.

“I asked because it is unusual to see calluses on a young girl like you,” the old lady said as she opened her palms wide to show her the bumps.

“I work in a packaging factory,” Archana replied. She did not talk to strangers anymore and was surprised at herself for doing so.

She had tried to live a quite life since that fateful day, hoping to blend in with the crowd, trying hard to not draw attention to herself. Being friendly with total strangers was what had got her in trouble. Her mother had always cautioned her not to trust people so easily.

“Archu, be careful in college. I can’t be there to protect you all the time,” her mother would admonish her every day.

“Yes Ma, I know. Boys are not to be trusted and men never,” she would repeat the litany and then get on her cycle and peddle away to college. She was ten when her father had died in a road accident. Her mother had been overprotective of her only child since then.

Archana knew her mother worried about her. It irritated her that she had to bring home her friends to meet Ma so she could approve of them. She was 19 years old. She knew how to take care of herself. But no, Ma had to be a part of every decision of her life, what clothes to wear, how to tie her hair, who her friends were.

Was that the reason she had not told her mother about Sameer? She had met him when she was standing by the side of the road with a flat tire, almost in tears.

“Do you need some help?” Sameer’s friendly voice had penetrated through the blur of tears.

“I have an exam in 20 minutes and I have a flat tire,” she said, barely managing to hold back her tears.

“Don’t worry. I know a place nearby that can fix your bicycle,” he had assured her. He guided her to the repair shop and then gave her a ride on his motorbike so she could reach in time for her exam.

They kept meeting for a few months after that. He would come to her college canteen and they would talk for hours over cups of ginger chai and samosas. Her friends had encouraged her to keep seeing him and even helped her go out on dates. She was surprised at how clever they were at covering for her.

“Don’t worry yaar, I will tell your mom you were with me,” her friend Anju would reassure her.

How she wished now they hadn’t. Not that it was their fault. She was enjoying the subterfuge with her mother. If she felt any guilt pangs, Sameer’s sweet gestures would wash them away.

When he had proposed Archana had been ecstatic. She had thought her mother would be happy for her and give her blessings. Instead, Ma was shocked.

“How long have you known each other?” she had asked in a steely voice.

“Six months, Ma,” she had answered meekly.

“Sameer, I am sure you are a very nice boy but till Archu completes her education, I can’t allow her to get married,” her mother had said in a voice that Archana knew was her final decision. There would be no further discussion.

“Aunty, my family is pressuring me to get married soon and I love your daughter. I will ask them to come formally as soon as you give your consent,” Sameer had pleaded.

“I have made my decision. If you love Archu and want to marry her, you will have to wait two more years till she graduates,” Ma had said.

Archana was so angry with her mother. She did not want to listen to reason. She can see now Ma had been right all along. Her mother had tried to raise her on her father’s meager pension. Ma had soon realized that without a proper education the only way for her to supplement their income was by cooking in other people’s homes.

Srikhand + Aamras = Amrakhand

According to my taste palette whoever invented amrakhand was a genius. It is one of the best combinations of yogurt and mango your taste buds get to experience in the hot months of summer.
Yogurt sets quickly in hot weather and mangoes are plentiful. Leftover milk is made into yogurt, transferred to a thin cotton cloth and tied and hung over a hook overnight. A bowl underneath catches the whey. Next day the thick yogurt is whipped with sugar, cardamom powder and nuts. Srikhand is ready to be eaten.
Of course, that was not enough for our culinary ancestors so they took some mango pulp and mixed it with the hung yogurt. And I am glad they did because they gave us Amrakhand.

If gods were sitting down for a meal, I am sure they were having Amrakhand as one of the side dessert. So offering a small prayer for the universe and feeling a little bit closer to the god's gastronomy, I send my happy mood to Nithya's FIC Express Your Mood , originally started by Sunshinemom .
This side dessert of the gods is also my second entry to Srivalli’s Mango Mela .

Refreshing Lassi / Yogurt Smoothie

In India lassi is the official drink of hot summer months. A tall glass of icy cool lassi refreshes the body and spirit and gives relief from the hot winds and an even hotter sun.

Lassi is usually made with full fat yogurt but I make my yogurt with 1% milk. I don't think it alters the taste very much but there is no doubt the full fat yougurt lassi tastes better. Of course it is also not as thick. A friend living in Haryana tells me the milk and yogurt there is the best in the world.

Like all things Indian, the method of preparing lassi also varies from state to state and family to family. Some prefer meethi (sweet) lassi, some charkhi (salty) lassi. Some like it so thick you have to scoop it with a spoon. Some prefer a thiner version you can gulp down.

My aunt in Bombay puts crushed ice and vanilla essence in it. My mom always made it with roasted cumin powder, black salt and sugar.

For a spicier version she would add a green chilli and a piece of ginger. One may contest that at this point it stops being lassi and becomes mattha (buttermilk). But as the bard put it so precisely -- "what's in a name? Lassi by any other name is still lassi." And tastes as good.

So here is to tall refreshing glasses of lassi to tide us over the summer months. Cheers!

Ingredients:

1 cup of yogurt

1/2 cup of cold water

2 tsp sugar

1/2 tsp roasted cumin powder

pinch of black salt (optional)

pinch of salt

Blend all the ingredients in a blender for two mins or till frothy. Sprinkle cumin powder on top.

For charkhi lassi

Add 1 green chilli and 1/2 " inch of ginger root

Blend all the ingredients in a blender.