ALL FOR ICE CREAM. :)

I love tapioca. My mother loves it too. But, nowadays when I visit home I rarely get to eat this ‘poor man’s delicacy’ at home owing to the soaring blood sugar levels of my mother and grandmother. So, whenever I see tapioca in the Kerala store here, I lean towards it. The messy cutting and boiling doesn't bother me at all when I think of the aroma and the taste of the butter soft ‘Maricheeni’ (as the ‘South Travancoreans’ call it) melting in my mouth.

I love it with chutney made of crushed green chilies, small onions and tamarind with salt. Well cooked tapioca dotted with freshly grated coconut, laced with spluttered mustard seeds and curry leaves in oil make a heavenly combination with this fiery chutney.

Back home Maricheeni would incarnate with spicy fish curry. This time the tapioca would be cooked and mashed with coconut ground with turmeric, red chilies, garlic and cumin seeds. Let me not dwell into the details which might make me wistful.

So yesterday again I could fetch some tapioca home, half of which I threw away as the long journey from God’s Own Country to the National Capital had made them lose the crusade against the intruding humidity and heat. I was cutting whatever I could save with some malevolence at the shop keeper in my mind for selling me the rotten tapioca when my sharp and heavy iron knife landed on the tip of my thumb slicing off half my nail. I washed the blood off and searched frantically for a band aid. Band-Aids get over faster than chocolates in our house, so I couldn't find any. It was a holiday for school so my two sons were at home. I bandaged my thumb with cloth and went about my chores.

 After serving breakfast I said aloud that I needed a band aid from the shop half a km away. I heard comments like, the shops open late, the sun was very strong, the maid must be going there to buy something etc.

At three o’ clock when I was slowly sliding into a siesta my younger one appeared near the bed.

‘Is there any sweet in the house?’

‘No’, I said. I knew that he was asking that after raiding the refrigerator and the kitchen cupboard.

‘Shall I go and buy ice cream?’

I glared at him.

‘OK. You wanted band aid isn't it? I’ll buy that too’, he said.

What a generous offer!

‘Fine’, I said. ‘Take the money from my purse and go.’

In another 20 minutes six band aids lay  on the side table next to me, beside a bowl of chocolate chip ice cream.

I learnt a new lesson. Ice creaming works faster than screaming.