JOIN USIt's festival time when children come home. Weeks before they descend on you, they will have started voicing their preferences and the places they plan to visit, along with what they would like to eat. "Amma, your potato curry, rava kesari, rice sewai with pulissery & papad... wah!"
Amma will be in seventh heaven, gloating, thinking that they are coming here to eat her preparations. And she will start planning the menu.
But nothing works according to the plan. My children and their children will get up late, have breakfast at lunchtime and lunch at tea time. The time in between is spent visiting either people (read: tailors) or shops.
I look on helplessly. "They say they are dying to see us and spend time with us, but they are never at home!" My friend, sailing in the same boat, used to lament at the end of such vacations.
"They buy so much but take very little with them, fearing excess baggage, and every time we end up buying new almirahs to keep what is dumped," my husband would grumble.
My disappointment would be of another kind. After two or three days, and after the wearisome shopping expeditions, it would be dining out on most of the days. The first appearance of Mother Cook's potato curries etc, etc would be greeted with clucking sounds and finished off with licking fingers, but the nightmare would be the leftovers of the lunch getting accumulated in the fridge afterwards. She who wanted to feed them to the full would be left wondering why she toiled so much.
"Amma, (don't) feel so sad - will have to wait for two more years to have something cooked by you At least Sree can have it whenever he wants it," my daughter's voice on the penultimate day will be teary. "But, for that also I may have to come here or hijack amma to Bengaluru," would be Sree's way of pacifying her.
Curiously, they spend the last day at home, and they polish everything off.
Back at the empty nest, the father, looking equally tearful, consoles: "How time flies! Next time when they come, why don't we ask your friend-cum-cook Saratha to come and do the cooking? Anyway, half the time they are outside and mostly dining out! You need not exert yourself unnecessarily, and can also spend more time with them all!"
Sudha's face lighting up at the sight of rava kesari, Sree's extended hand for 't(a/e)sting' the hot fried potato, the kids' glee at snuffing out the puffed papads - I see them all in my mind's eye and shake my head.
"Why? Saratha cooks well and it tastes the same. What are you going to add extra to it?" My husband is puzzled. "Mother's touch," I reply, hugging the dear images tightly to myself.