Ravi was chatting with his friend on the telephone. “Put the phone down and get me some eggs” yelled his mother. Hastily, Ravi said bye to his friend and disconnected the call. The phone rang almost immediately.
“The phone was engaged for half an hour” shouted the voice on the other end angrily. It was Ravi’s uncle.
“The receiver was not in position uncle” mumbled Ravi and passed the phone to his mother.
His mother gave a couple of nods and let out a loud gasp. With tears swelling in her eyes, she informed the gents at home that her mother was critical and fighting for life. They packed their bags and set out to their village.
The atmosphere was gloomy. As if everyone were prepared for the old woman’s death, a bunch of people were half drunk and playing cards at one corner of the verandah, a group of woman ready to sing a dirge, few women were weeping, some men were laughing about something and a death band was on standby. Relatives were arriving with garlands.
Ravi came running out of his grand mother’s room and told his mother, “Grandma is awake and is asking for biriyani.”
This is oddly similar to my own grandmother's last few months.
Biryani 😍😍😍