Friday Word "Dance" And A Childhood Memory
As per Mona the word this week is "Dance". So here goes..
Do weathervanes tell you the direction of an ill wind?
Are her footsteps the prelude to a dance of death?
Hair aflame, eyes insensate
She reaches for me
Dance with me she whispers
As she takes my hand
Powerless to resist
I feel my lifeblood ebbing from me
A cold chill seeps thru my being
I fall away from myself
Her laugh a requiem for me
Am barely a pause in a collective conscious
A wail lost in the wind
Archaic, dated and defunct
Done, ruined and gone.
Memories That Pop Out Of Nowhere
Usually memories that are buried deep come forth when there are associations such as food, smell, color or sound. But this one is a childhood memory that just popped in to my head while I was walking to my desk at work. In Bombay, in this neighborhood called Dadar, there is this traffic circle (no longer a circle I guess with flyovers over that place). On the corner next to Chandu’s sweet shop used to be this lovely little bakery/eatery run by Parsis. The name of the place was Farmer Brothers.
They used to have these amazing cakes that were called mawa cakes (about the size of a small muffin). They used to have the most amazing golden brown crust. Biting in to one felt like I was in epicurean heaven! It was rich, delightful and scrumptious.
My dad used to work for the Indian railroads and the train station at Dadar used to be one of the main stops for long distance trains. Whenever he was done with his trip on those on the way back sometimes, he would stop by Farmer brothers and pick up a few cakes for us. We would wait expectantly for dad to show up and look for the little white paper bag. I even remember the bag, which had a picture of a hen and two eggs next to it. Me and sis coined a term for the cake. We used the Marathi term for a hen “komdi”, so this cake was a komdi cake.
I had a particular way of eating one too. I would unwrap the paper that was around it with crumbs of cake sticking to it. Before I even touched the cake I would lick the paper free of any cake crumbs left on it.
We hardly ever ate out as kids so this was sort of a rare but welcome treat. When we moved from near Central Bombay to the Northern part and then did not have much of a chance to sample the cakes again.
That was not the last of the place for me though. It used to be a haunt for me and *A* after we were done for the day to have a cup of tea, snack and talk for a while.
Sadly Farmer brothers, the store as we knew it is now long gone. It got reincarnated as a Chinese place, run by the same folks. I am not sure what has happened to it now. Do any of you people from Bombay know? When I visit I hardly have time to get out. Bombay repels and draws me in at the same time, and I always have mixed feelings about the place, maybe next time I visit I will try to get out a bit more and soak in the city.