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Habsiguda chef and his adventures

Rs 210. Basic pay was too big an amount for a fresh BSc in 1958. But my Appa said, ‘no, I can’t send my son to Assam’

‘It is an attractive post as a Silt Analyst with hopes for raising’, I tried to convince him. My father and my wife both shared a good habit- if they say, ‘no’, under no circumstances, it could turn into ‘yes’.

‘No’, said my wife when I suggested, ‘why don’t we have one more child?’ , two years after my fourth child, my third son, was born. The year was 1985 and I was to retire in 1994. She had, perhaps, that date in mind.

Anyway, that is a different story.

Now, coming to dosai, my daughter through FaceTime had given clear instructions which I followed strictly, but my dosai refused to get up from the tawa in a single form. Two, three, six pieces were tolerable, not twenty. I never give up. Ok, if not dosa, idli. Where is the idli vessel? It was very much there and after pouring the mix, I found that the central rod linking the plates was missing. I have told you that story. I was, as disappointed as I was, when Appa said ‘no’ to my Assam job, in 1958.

Shivam Perinkulam never gives up. Had it been so, he would not have become a husband after being rejected by almost every eligible girl, this side of the Vindhya hills! No husband meant no father, no father meant no USA, U.K. or Europe or Switzerland trips. Olavakkode, Perinkulam, Hyderabad, maximum Kasi, Rameswaram!

A new idea cropped up this morning. Why not make a paste of rice and mix with the bulk stock, sleeping in the fridge!

Hip, hip hurray! It worked. The first trial dosa was a thick one; then on, no going back.

Vicha Anna was excited, Yadamma enjoyed eating, fully opening her mouth.

‘Dosa, chAla bAgunthi’- madam Y ( maid servant Yadamma)

‘Onnu koodi’ Mr. V ( brother Vicha )

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