Malati Pishi had cooked taki fish curry with cauliflower tonight, along with charred eggplant mash and dal. The pleasure of piping hot rice in winter's embrace—perhaps even heaven couldn't offer such bliss. Kajri finished her studies, washed her hands and face, and sat down to eat; her eyes were nearly drifting to the land of sleep, as her secondary exams would begin next month.
"Oh Kajri, hey, what are you doing! Move that fish bowl away from me, child! At my age, should I be committing sins?" Hearing grandmother's words, Kajri burst into laughter. "Grandma, if you don't eat today's taki fish, even your journey to heaven will be wasted. No one's coming to this room now, just have a little taste... I won't tell anyone, I swear by Ma Kali!"
Such words from her granddaughter were nothing new to widow Parmadevi. She often spoke in such amusing and outlandish ways. "Hmm, I'll eat, dear, I'll eat plenty. When you and I both wear white saris together, then we two will feast on fish and meat, dipping our wrists deep, how's that?"
The moment she spoke, Parmadevi bit her tongue. What terrible thing had she said to her granddaughter in jest? Why would the girl ever wear white? Immediately changing the subject, she said, "Won't you try a bit of my boiled potato today, dear? Just a little?"
Kajri wouldn't let the topic drift. In a cool voice, she said, "No, I haven't even finished the fish today, Grandma. And in just a few more days, I'll have to sit with you and eat only that boiled food anyway!"