Don’t smush the rice; don’t make a ball. And don’t eat with your tongue lolling out like a dog’s. No; it doesn’t justify your passion for Amma’s Kara Kuzhambu. The tanginess of it ringing a bell all the way through to the stomach, the spice making you salivate and eat in quick successive mouthfuls.
Always have subtle table manners. Sit down, cross your knees. Touch the food. Scoop it making a spoon with your fingers and put it in your mouth.
Remember how you stood by the table and stared at Papa’s wedding plate and the way he ate? You stared at Chithi- Papa’s new bride and stepmother’s plate too. It brought out a lot of sad, sympathetic pauses and stares back at you. Most importantly, it made everyone blame your dead mother too. How could she die leaving this bud alone? They gossiped as throughout the night as Papa and Chithi entered the wedding room and you crouched on the staircase and slept.
When it came to having a traditional feast, the semi-dry Kuzhambu and curd rice won’t be a problem. But rasam needs all your care. When you eat, there will be more rice in each mouthful; the evasive rasam would slip and would like to be left in the plate. Don’t slurp; not aloud.
Sneak the banana from the plate; you can have it when your stomach isn’t too stuffed and needs a sweet treat. Have the dessert at the very end of the course; Ammama said that seals your luck and privilege for becoming a Maharaja in your next birth. Maharaja; not Maharani, ruling over a loved heart
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