There is something beautiful about sharing a home cooked meal. It is an expression of love and friendship.
Yesterday evening my neighbour's son Zamin brought us a tray full of food. A plate of warm basmati rice and chickpeas, sweet dates on the side, a glass of pink faluda and a small plate of sliced cake soaked in custard and topped with strawberries. It was the Ramadan Iftar meal, the evening meal when muslims break their fast at the time of sunset. Knowing we are vegetarian, Saba my neighbour sent us only what was vegetarian in the Iftar meal.
I was touched by this sweet gesture. It was a gentle acknowledgement of our friendship. With every mouthful, I was conscious of the time and love that went into making this meal.
Yesterday evening my neighbour's son Zamin brought us a tray full of food. A plate of warm basmati rice and chickpeas, sweet dates on the side, a glass of pink faluda and a small plate of sliced cake soaked in custard and topped with strawberries. It was the Ramadan Iftar meal, the evening meal when muslims break their fast at the time of sunset. Knowing we are vegetarian, Saba my neighbour sent us only what was vegetarian in the Iftar meal.
I was touched by this sweet gesture. It was a gentle acknowledgement of our friendship. With every mouthful, I was conscious of the time and love that went into making this meal.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Please leave a message