(Continued from Part-I...)
Two months later:
The Mom prepared the batter for dosas and put it in the fridge. The next day was the dosa-day. They all would have dosas for breakfast. She prepared the spicy onion sambar and the sweet coconut chutney and set them on the dining table. As the daughter was busy solving a puzzle given by her Dad, there was no banging of plates and spoons and no shouting slogans. It was a calm Sunday.
The Mom wanted to start making the dosas but the Dad was missing. He had not gone out but he was not inside the house either. The Mom called out to the daughter to fetch her Dad. Just then the phone started ringing. She went to the drawing room to pick it up. It was one of her childhood friends. She chatted with her without the sense of the passage of time.
In the mean time she could smell the making of dosa. She thought she was just imagining things. But she was wrong. Soon the Dad and daughter got a tray laden with a hot, crispy dosa, bowl of sambar and a bowl of chutney to the drawing room. They dragged a side-stool and placed the tray on it. She was so much overwhelmed that she hastily ended the call and sat transfixed. The Dad cut a piece of the yummy dosa, dipped it into the tasty sambar and put it into the Mom’s mouth.
Mom’s eyes filled with tears of gratitude. After almost five years, she was having a homemade dosa. After the initial hesitation, she ate and ate and ate till she could eat no more. The Dad put dosa after dosa onto her plate and she gulped it down at an equally fast pace. When she felt that her tummy would burst, she put the plate in the sink and washed her hands. She saw the Dad in the kitchen making more dosas for the daughter and for him. She simply put her arms around him from behind and gave him a warm hug.
That night after the daughter was tucked into the bed and fast asleep, the Mom and the Dad lay on a thin mattress on the terrace, gazing at the stars.
The Mom asked, “Where did you learn to make such good dosas?”
“I learnt them from your mom.”
“But when?” she asked in surprise.
“Why do you think I have been coming home late for the past two months?”
“Oh! So, you have been meeting your mother-in-law in secret?” she teased.
He laughed and said “I have always wondered why you always ordered for dosas whenever we went out to eat. But you would never eat them at home. I thought, may be you don’t like home-made dosas but then you always eat them when you are at your place. That was when I went to your mother and asked for the reason. She said that sometimes when we use a lot of oil during cooking, we would be left with a nauseating feeling. We might not even like to have anything, even if it were our favorite snack. The same would hold for vadas, puris, pakodis and bhajjis.”
He paused and took her hands in his and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me this, dear?”
“Tell you that I don’t feel like having my favorite snack anymore?”
“Not that. You should have told that you were sacrificing the food preparation that you like the most, just for the sake of us.”
“It’s not like that!” she argued, “I love it when I see you enjoy your dosa.”
“While you choke yourself in the smoke inside the kitchen?”
Mom could not say anything more.
“I could not bear to keep quiet after seeing you doing so much for us,” said Dad
“So, the person, who hates to even make tea, has now learnt to make tasty dosas,” she chuckled.
He nodded and replied, “From now on, I will be the only one making dosas…”
“...And I will be the one to eat them,” she added happily.
“But of course,” he added, “You will have to make the sambar and chutney!”
Mom snuggled closer to Dad realizing how happy and fortunate she was to get a husband like him!
(Well, that's the end of the story! :-D)