There are endless memories of summer that I cherish nowadays. They are mostly of some flowers, or some cool shorbot(drinks), or some food. Because in our home love languages is always been food. I think its for most of the bangali family . In my home my mother have one new recipe everyday, and i was the taster always
On initial days of summer ma used to make various ice creams bowls with fruits, as I used to hate eating fruits normally , or some fruit custard. while returning back home from school certainly we have to have a ‘shorbot’. And the ice creams goes to evening snacks. But the shorbot had some twist. I don’t know whether anyone had a ada(ginger) and tetul(tamarind) er shorbot, kancha piyanj pora(burnt onions)die doi(curd) er ghol, mouri bata die lebu r shorbot. I have drink these and there from i got my taste buds. And after lunch the ‘aam er ombol’. I try to make like ma, I failed. There is a subtle combination of tok, jhal and mishti, the perfect balance of it, that ma makes.
Its like reading a love letter from ages ago.
Also another certain memory of summer. On every summer vacation, all my friends went to ‘mamar bari ‘, but sadly I don’t have any. And after school reopens my friends always had cool stories to tell, only I am the one who don’t have a single story.
Parar bondhu der sathe cricket khelechi barir varandah te’
My statement was always this
But then I make sure to see those yellow flowers clinging from each of the branches. The amaltas, the krishnachuras, the Jarul that have just started blooming. Let Everything becomes memory, but these trees takes me long back, days gone by, and makes me a cool shorbot, that I am drinking for the first time. A freshly born recipe like my mother always have.
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