I did no such thing!!
No, wait! Let me put that on my face!
I didn't say these words. But if you looked deep into my eyes this morning at the breakfast table, you'd have heard my soul cry out for a beggarly bit of a sloppy fruit.
Breakfast time. We're at the table.
My grandfather and his knife were slowly, slowly ensuring slices of a wobbly, blackened banana (that I wanted to slather on my face as a pack) were landing right in his bowl of porridge topped with strawberry flavoured god awful Kellogs cornflakes.
Who eats that?!
HE eats that.
He even eats dessert in the same bowl as his dahi/curd and I don't judge, I don't pooh-pooh. I don't judge or pooh-pooh because it's um, rude plus something I've picked up. He's a foodie. From the school of thought called why waste it. Why dirty another dish. Why waste more water. The strawberry and porridge and rotting bananas -- it's his happy place. Mine descend from there. No poohing.
Granddaddy seemed to think banana episode was needling me. Maybe he thought I didn't want him to eat a dirty black b'nana, when really, all I wanted was a little piece of dirty black b'nana to massage my face with.
He: Rich in nutrients, Swami ji used to say -- and eat only the most sada hua kelas, the blackest of the black.
Me: Yea yea, very good. Now are you saving me the last bit of the rotten fruit or not?
Nope.. Swami ji tales continued, entire banana sliced, nothing for my face.
I just hope these sacrifices being made in the name of respecting elders isn't going unnoticed by the big fruit fly in the sky.
Note to self. Next time, swoop and snatch, baby, SWOOP and snatch!