I don’t know what I’ll be writing in this post. Neither do I know why I’m writing this in the first place. My blog is supposed to be a platform where I share my love of food with you. So our relationship should begin and end there, right? But I’m afraid there is so much else that I love in this world, apart from food. And I’ll be mean and selfish if I keep you away from them. I’m writing this because today I need your help in the form of your prayers.
My grandmother, Teesta as I call her (about whom you can read here), is in the hospital. She’s lying in the ICCU for the last 4 days, oxygen mask on her face. She wasn’t keeping well since Sunday last. Her sugar levels were fluctuating like crazy (40 one day to 450 the next), she couldn’t eat anything and mostly lay passively on her bed. On the morning of 6th (the day when, exactly 56 years back, she lost her eldest son to leukemia at the tender age of 5) she started having breathing trouble, and my Mama (maternal uncle) instantly took the doc’s advice and decided to get her hospitalised. Since then she is on and off non-invasive ventilator. Thankfully she is completely in her senses and at times tries to communicate with us in her sign language when we visit her. (When I went to visit her today I found that her mask had been taken off and the oxygen doze minimised. Little joys of life!).
But she is 82 and it is probably natural. What is not natural and fair is the 16-year-old boy lying in a bed parallel to hers. A well-built young man, almost touching 6 feet, who should have been going to school right now, lies on that white surgical bed, his eyes peeping out from the oxygen mask that engulfs his face. He urges his mother everyday, “Ma, amay baari niye cholo” (Mother, take me home), to which his helplessly distraught mother replies, “Niye jabo baba, age tui bhalo hoye oth” (I’ll definitely take you back, son. Just get well first). Everyday when I see them, my eyes fill with tears and I think…it all boils down to this, doesn’t it? Name, fame, money, pride, ego…everything fades under the most stark reality of life.
I hate to see them — a teen and an octogenarian — lying like that, as much as I think you would to see any of your loved one that helpless. I’m hoping and praying every single moment that they get well soon and fit back into their normal lives which they have abandoned for the time being. I request your prayers and good wishes so that together we can spring them back to their old selves.
Now every post has to be accompanied by a recipe, I guess. I made these Apricot Yoghurt Parfaits a few days back but caught in this tussle, never got to post about them. These don’t require any additional sugar, so if you’re a mild diabetic and are allowed fruits, you can try this out.
Apricots, roughly chopped: 10-12
Honey: 5+2 tbsp
Yoghurt: 1 cup
1. In a non-stick pan heat the apricots with 5 tbsp honey and a little water till they become soft and pulpy and release some juice. Allow some apricot chunks to remains. This should take you around 8-10 minutes. Allow to cool.
2. Add 2 tbsp honey to the yoghurt and beat till smooth.
3. In a serving glass, layer the apricot compote, followed by the honeyed yoghurt and top with a little of the remaining compote.
4. Refrigerate for 3-4 hours and serve chilled.