It was a rainy afternoon. I was enjoying the drizzles when Ma said, “I’m going to the market. Take care of your grandma. And please don’t give her the leftover chocolates in the fridge even if she asks. You know, right, why I’m saying?”
I sat down and recalled my childhood when Grandma took me from school and bought me cotton candies. And who forgets the lip-smacking Chilli Pickle, Kheer, Chicken Qorma, and what not! She is a magician when it comes to food!
Sigh. Now she doesn’t even remember my name. Recipes are far away. Alzheimer and diabetes ruined my adulthood.
But what if I try to reminisce her about the lovely times we had by chocolate? After all, that was her favorite!
I slowly crept into her room. She was sitting by the window ledge. I called her and gave her a packet of chocolate and asked, “Grandma, can you recall anything about how we had chocolates like a thief last month?”
“No, not at all.”
“And the cotton candies you bought me when we were returning from school?”
“Mishti, can you tell me more about what else we did together?”
I paused and wondered, did she call me by my name? Or was it my hallucination? I was lost in deep thought when she called me again.
“Mishtiiii, why did you stop? Tell me more. “
I smiled, knowing it was a temporary remembrance.
Chocolates are the touchwood!
Submitted by Swarnali Dutta