What Shall I Eat?

I wonder what I should eat? My sister has gone away.
The cook will come only at 12. Then she will cook a hot lunch for me. What a delight it is to eat food with steam rising from it and which feels so good and hot in the hand. Not like the food cooked by my sister early in the morning and reheated later. She likes to finish her work and then settle down to watch her favorite programs on TV.

Now here is my daughter insisting I switch off the fridge for a whole morning. She said there was too much ice in it. What will happen to the milk in it? Will it survive those hours of heat? And I have bought an extra packet because my daughter has come. Will she have coffee in the evening or will she go away? Then that milk will be wasted.

Should I eat those slices of bread left over from day before? Can I have an egg? No, my digestion has just returned to normal after the last one a week ago. And that was only cake.

There is the idli batter. Now, I have learnt to make idlis. The day before, the idlis had come out so perfectly. I felt so pleased with myself. But yesterday, when I opened the vessel with so much anticipation, they turned out soggy and so wet and a mess. Still I managed to take them out and eat them. Inside, they were cooked and not so bad. What could have gone wrong? Was the batter too sour or was the time too long or could the water have been too much? My fingers still smart from the burn I got, trying to manipulate the idli platter.

Should I go now to the bathroom? No, the banana seller will come. And he has promised to bring that special mountain variety today. I must not buy too many. Who is here to eat them?

Today I must give those sweets the neighbor gave me a week ago to the servant maid. She will ask me what vegetable to make. What can I tell her? What vegetables are there? Should I wait for the vegetable cart man and buy some ladies fingers? No, no, if we are to switch off the fridge, then we have to finish whatever is there first.

She said yesterday, to buy some appalams. I bought the coffee powder but I forgot those. I shall have to ask the newspaper boy to buy some. I have to pour some hot water into the coffee filter now.
Is there enough water in the tank upstairs? Is today the water day? The neighborhood women will come for water. Should I move the car? The car will have to be serviced soon.

Shall I sell it like everyone is urging me to? But it has been with me so long; I should keep it till the end. Let them do whatever they want when I am gone. But it is so difficult to unlock it, sit on the seat sideways first, then slowly swing my feet in, and then get into position, put in the key, get the gear into neutral and then start the car. It is so painful to press the accelerator.

The doctor says knee replacement can be successful. But only can be. What if it isn’t? What if it becomes worse? I will have used my capital for nothing. There will be less to leave for my children.

They say to go ahead. Money isn’t important. But it is. Every rupee counts now. The one thing that is more important is health. No one can share it with you. You have to bear the burden alone.

I need to eat properly to maintain my health as well as possible. No more biscuits and sweets. No cakes to upset my digestion. I should ask the maid to cut down the oil. Is she using the healthy oil I bought?
What shall I eat now?

The neighbour’s maid is coming now. With idlis and chutney.

On zine5 on Feb20