I was in college that time, doing my graduation in Chemistry from Calcutta University. I loved going to college, mostly because I had great friends there. But who wants to leave the warmth of a quilt and set forth with a bag, when it rains that too in winter? Not me at least!
It was December and chill had slowly cropped into the breeze, sleeping under the soft and warm quilt had an added attraction. The inherent laze attached to the cold months has no power to interrupt regular activities but yet the response to stimuli does slow down a bit.
I got up from bed feeling very cold and numb, but as soon as I looked outside through the window, I heaved a sigh of relief. It’s too early and I have many hours to sleep, I thought, the sun has still not shown its crimson warm rays. But suddenly my mom’s voice brought me back to senses. Sometimes deep sleep has an intoxicating effect. It was raining heavily outside and the sun in fact had no choice but to silently sit behind the enormous grey clouds, and watch the morning unfold to chill and darkness.
“The weather is not good, it’s raining outside and chilling cold,” said Ma, “I suggest drop the idea of going to college and sleep a little more.”
The idea seemed lucrative and with slight visible reluctance, I decided to allow the quilt to lovingly embrace me for a little longer.
My sleep this time broke to the smell of fried Hilsa (a fish very famous in Bengal). The heavy downpour had stopped. I stretched for a few minutes, a little longer than usual to brush off my extra laze and jumped out of bed. As I gradually made my way to the balcony to witness the rainy winter morning, my feet froze to the touch of the cold marvel floor. With my pink furred sleepers on,I stood aghast holding the balcony bars. It was beautiful outside, my city looked different and fresh. The sky was partially clouded and the sun sometimes fought its way out to gaze at us. It was foggy and the road near my house was clean with the recent downpour. Many people had taken an unplanned leave and were sipping tea from clay cups at the street side tea stall, while some were smoking. The atmosphere was laid back and complete treat to the eyes and being.
In no time my mom had appeared with a steaming cup of coffee in her hand, how does she know before I speak, well….I guess that’s what mothers are like. As I sat down on the bed with my coffee mug, I inquired of lunch menu as I was too late for breakfast.
On me asking mom proudly declared “Khichdi and Hilsa Fry”.
As soon as it had stopped raining, Papa had rushed to get some fresh Hilsa from the nearby fish market and mom did what she has mastered, converted the raw materials to a super yum lunch spread!
In a rainy day Bongs can think no better than a mouth watering lunch out of Khichdi and Hilsa. I will always remember that day, due to the laze attached, the pampering from parents and the beauty of my city and loads of nostalgia attached.
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Created by: Aritra