A Sweet Memory

I have always cherished time I spent with my family. We are a small unit: mom, dad, and I, and our extended family included my mom’s twin sister and my ex. Any permutation of five worked well, except that my father needed to have either mom or me, in case he was alone with one or both of the other two.

One Friday, my aunt was coming over from Pune, where she stays. She was going to spend a few days with us, and so we decided to go for a late night movie to kickstart a weekend of fun and frolic. I booked the tickets from the office during the afternoon.

The plan was to pick my aunt up from the train station at 8 pm, then about an hour later, pick me up from a local train station, and then head to the theatre.

At around 7 pm, an hour before I leave the office, there was a dogfooding session on. [I will reserve my rant for the IT industry abusing English for another post.] The product manager had ordered in doughnuts from a recently opened Dunkin’ Donuts across the street for the participants of the session. I wasn’t one, but he offered me a doughnut nonetheless, since I happened to be in the immediate vicinity.

Now, there is this neurosis I have: I always feel the need to pack up goodies for home too. And the doughnut was very nice indeed, and I wanted to take home a box to share with the family. The only drawback was that my mum had previously loudly proclaimed her strong dislike for Dunkin’ Donuts. [Apparently, the few times she has been, the doughnuts were less than great.]

Also, I was getting heat from my folks to leave office on time, seeing as they would be waiting at the station to pick me up. I decided that I would risk the ire, and went across the street to pick up a box of doughnuts. Initially I wanted to buy a dozen, but quailing a little at the thought of my mom’s dislike, I stuck with half a dozen.

Luckily, I caught my train, and I reached the station on time. I clambered down the stairs, clutching the oblong box firmly aloft. It was really delicate, and wasn’t built to withstand commuting in Mumbai.

I reached the car, and passed the doughnuts to my mum and aunt in the back seat. I didn’t realise it till that point, but I had been holding my breath. And I released it with a sigh of relief, when the box was greeted with squeals of delight. Whew.

Dad was driving, but he wanted a doughnut too. So he pulled into a parking spot near the station, and the four of us dug into a doughnut each. I remember my father being unable to decide between two, so I handed him one, took the other, and we swapped halfway through. After polishing off four of them, we headed to the theatre.

I have hundreds of memories like this, but they flit in and out of my consciousness. I think blogging about them will create a record that I can read for ages to come.


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