Sentimental Journeys

In my world of solitude, I find company in my memories. My daughter is too young and too naive to be my emotional and mental support but she does what she can to help with the chores. I can see that she is also lonely. Her father is usually working during the night and sleeping during the day. She has not had the chance to make new friends, unfortunately.

The winter frost bites our noses, but we manage to have breakfast together in the freshly cut rays of the sun. The kitchen is our favourite place in the whole house because it is south-facing, and cooking provides a cosy nest for us to cocoon in during the chilly mornings.

My husband often sleeps till late as he works in the evenings. All this is very different for me because I am used to waking up early for dawn prayers, after which, I begin my chores. I long for the conversations I used to have with family members while we enjoyed tea with breakfast. I can’t have grown-up conversations with my daughter, it would be wrong to expect her to understand me as she is only ten years of age. I try to telephone back home to speak to anyone who would pick up the phone but that is limited as international calls are priced at premium rates.

Also, the tea here is very different. The leaves are packed in a little bag, which is then immersed in boiled water, and then the milk and sugar are added. You have to keep stirring until the colour changes to the required strength. It tastes a little weak to me, but that’s how they make tea here, so I am trying to embrace their ways of doing things. I will have to take out the milk pan to have a proper cup of tea next time—a cup of chai!