“Midnight
Murgh Masala”
(Story)
My mother did not want us to be
brought up in the "wilds” of Assam nor in a conservative Newar society in
Kathmandu. So we spent most of our childhood years in St Helen’s convent
Kurseong or with my grandmother in her cottage “Padma Lodge” a few miles
from the convent.
My dad had his business in Assam. We
did not see much of him.
He
visited occasionally. Dad’s visits were like Santa’s. As soon as he
arrived he would open the boxes laden with goodies for my mother, Granny
and the kids, and we’d dive in. His visits were never long enough.
My Dad was a big tease and my mother
was usually quite sporting about it. One evening at dinner, however, he
caught her in a bad mood. My mother threw a fit. He did not like discord
or disharmony of any sort during meals. Dad said he lost his appetite and
went straight to bed.
In a middle of the night I was awakened by sounds coming
from the dining room. I have always been a light sleeper. I crawled out
of bed to investigate. There was my Dad with a hearty supper laid
out in front of him. I joined him and soon after so did my mother. All
was forgiven and forgotten and the three of us had a great mid-night
feast.
