If It’s Sunday!

Darabsha has just finished lathering his toast with a generous amount of orange marmalade, after polishing off the two sunny-side ups, a slice of Swiss cheese… all the while complaining about the fraud committed by the Swiss cheese makers who cheat us of cheese by drilling holes in it. “I bet they do it after weighing the pieces whole!” he said.

“Besi reov ni Darabsha! You are being far-fetched. Swiss are known for their honesty and integrity. They will not cheat for a few shreds of cheese. They are proud of their quality control. The holes are the result of the Swiss cheese making process,” said Ratimai

“Bus, bou boli! Now tell me what we are having for lunch today?” 

“Lunch per biju su? Dhansak, kolmi na kababs, chaspailo kand, ne tamari inevitable kuchumber. What else? Today is Sunday! Gher ma betha-betha bhuli-jaoch su divas bhi che!” 

“And what about the dinner?”  

That did it!

“Darabsha!!! You have just had your breakfast and now you are grilling me for dinner! Pet chhe ke pakhal!! You think of nothing but food. Go arrange your book-case or your bar. They are a mess!” said his exasperated wife.

“Arre! Su karu darling, one hundred and twenty days at home! What else is there to look forward to? Breakfast, lunch and dinner!  And of course, the tea-time bhakhras, karkarias or popatjis. What else? The 7:30 pm chavena does not count. This bloody on-line working is a greater strain. You just don’t know when madam Editor will be spying upon you. She nearly caught me with my beer mug standing on my work-station the other day! And to crown it all, she tells me it is bad English to end sentences with prepositions! Ave to Madam-e English sikhav-vanu pun saru kidhuch! Oh, the travesty of our times!”  

“Hoy Shakespeare, bus ghano babrat-fafrat kario. Time to make a beeline to the on-line. Your Madam Editor is awaiting your words of wisdom!”

How I dream of those pre-March, 2020 gay, carefree days. Two-plus hours for lunch, a snooze, a power nap at the Petit Library in those bapava-ni easy chairs and back to work after a couple of vada-paos and a hot cuppa! Boss checked me a couple of times… “Darabsha! Kem Petit Library ma su kartata?” (There must be a tattle-tale in the office) “Vari ungh karva gaila su?” A straight faced, “Madam tame bhi jocking karoch. I was there to do some research for my new article!”

O, for those happy days! 

You had a set gastronomic schedule and make your gastro-dreams come true the very next day during lunch time. And if it was………. If it was Sunday it had to be Dhansak…

If it’s Sunday, the day of good cheer,

We’re gonna have a lark,

Quaffing down tankards of chilled beer,

And lunch of kuchumber, cutlets ‘n’ dhansaak! 

If it’s Monday, off to slog at work,

‘N’ face the grumpy ol’ boss. 

In the noontime meal there probably lurks

Papad, khichree and machchi no sauss!

 And if its Tuesday, hope for someone’s birthday,

Then there’ll be sagan-nu dhandar,

 ‘N’ if you’re lucky there’ll be kolmi-no-patio,

Otherwise, the queen of pickles – the maethia-nu-achar! 

Now comes Wednesday, the day in between, 

‘N’ your better half wants your tummy to rest; 

You’ll have a lunch of khakhras and curd, 

 I tell you, this a bloody cruel jest! 

Today is Thursday and you’re angry and fed up,

You want to have something nice,

In that Goan restaurant go and sup, 

On sorpotel, vindaloo and meat curry rice!

At long last, slowly creeps in Friday, 

I couldn’t care what is served, 

‘Cause tomorrow is Saturday, the half working day, 

Off to the nearest watering-hole we swerve! 

For lunch, but after whisky, vodka or gin ‘n’ lime

 While the Missus thinks we’re clocking over-time! 

As a youth I worried ‘bout my waist line, 

And I managed it just around twenty and nine,

My pre-occupation with food – my awful rhymes will prove just that; 

But at seventy-seven, I just care not… I am cool, happy and fat! 

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