Sweet Memories of a sunday afternoon

A lazy, quiet Sunday afternoon, a sumptuous lunch under a softly whirling fan! On the table; conversations on price rise, recipes, the taste buds tingling as the covers lift and we salivate! Our favourite – Chicken curry ! The wonderful Sunday afternoon Lunch!
We sat, a family relishing the fruits of hard work through the week in our own ways, was reminded of the Hindi saying “Mehenat ka phal Meetha hota hai!”
( sweet are the fruits of labour!) Don’t know if it is the right translation, Anyway!
Its almost an hour, till we all finished and the plates Clean! My Thakuma (Grandmother) and I had a love hate relationship but this is one occasion we were both very supportive. She ate slowly and spoke less! You knew then, the lunch was good! She didn’t know management principles of Praising when things were right! No comments meant great job done!
Cling! clang ! The sound of dishes being put aside, and a grumbling me, who had to clean the table while Ma put the extras aside – oh! who ever invented the Refrigerator! The wonder machine! What a blessing ! The chicken tastes better when eaten later! The thought brought in a smile on my otherwise grumpy face!
The radio played the favourites on “Musical Bandbox”. All those numbers that are today referred to as “Retro music” – a Cliff Richards, a Simon Garfunkel and an Abba! The RJ’s never spoke so much as they do now!
Dad would light his carefully made cigarette… the pouch with fresh tobacco – I loved the smell! A small secret - that I had once tried the art of making the same …. And was caught just before I could strike a light! What an experience! I could tell from one brand to the other – sometimes it was Van Gogh, sometimes a Prince Henry or a Wills ! The logic behind making it so painstakingly was to lessen the number of cigarettes a day! Did it work? Well….
Between the fresh smell of the tobacco, quick plans for the evening were made, hoping that no unexpected, friendly relative with bags full of gossip drop in…. Then, all our plans would be a drop out!
So many such small things come to my mind as a Sunday afternoon goes by now. Like a movie, images of our childhood, voice of Dad, of my dear Thakuma, the aroma of freshly cooked food, the whistle of the cooker and so on.. I live each moment again and a smile crosses my lips and heavy eyelids close down on a silent, much awaited siesta!