Breakfast Serial: BBJ on the verandah with conversations
This is a series of articles written by Silver Talkies members, following their participation in a writing workshop conducted by Silver Talkies Magazine editor Priyanka Borpujari.
These days my breakfast is usually a simple one: two slices of buttered toast with my second cup of tea for the day. But an invitation to reflect on memories of breakfasts through my lifetime was an easy nudge to string these words together. The first memories this evoked in me was from when I was some six or seven years old, when we lived in a house on Cochin Island, not far from the shore of an inlet from the Arabian Sea. I would wander around that part of the island in the mornings and come home when I felt hungry.
Breakfast would be set on a small table in the side verandah of our home on Cochin Island. Our family would have breakfast together: my parents, my younger sister and I. My father’s stint in the Royal Indian Navy and his travels abroad by ship brought the British influence into our lives. We ate meals at a table, not sitting on the floor like most Indians generally did (and still do). We had BBJ (bread, Polson’s butter, jam) for breakfast most days, with Kraft cheese on the side, occasionally puris, and sometimes an omelette or eggs sunny-side up. I loved sprinkling a lot of pepper on mine. I still remember the taste of the butter on the soft slice of bread. The verandah looked out onto our garden with Edward roses growing in neat flower beds. “No picking flowers, they are beautiful and to be admired,” my father would say. My mother would want roses for her puja, for which my father ordered flowers from the market. “But no picking our roses,” he would say in a quiet but not-to-be-disobeyed voice. And so my sister and I obeyed.
Breakfast was a leisurely meal, I remember. Were they so only on Sundays? My memories do not distinguish days of the week. My father read the newspapers and chatted as we ate; I remember liking the rustle of paper as he turned the pages. Conversation was also a must, unlike some homes where it is a rule that everyone eats in silence. So, we listened to the news of the day, asked questions, and heard about what was happening in the Naval base. My father was the hospital administrator so there a lot of activity each day: a surgeon who could not operate without having “a tiny one”; a sailor did five rounds of the big grounds carrying his rifle over his head, because he was late for morning exercises; a staff member whose daughter got into nursing course but had no money for her hostel fees; the upcoming Navy Day fiesta… To this day, I enjoy conversations over meals, thanks to this tradition set by my father.
It was only when we visited my grandmother’s house in Walajah, North Arcot (now Vellore) in Tamil Nadu that we had ‘Indian’ breakfasts of idlis and dosas with chutney and sambar. My sister and I ate them with the accompaniments in little bowls, and not all poured into the plate, drowning the idlis in a sea of sambar and chutney. No, we ate idlis British-style, with a fork and spoon! However, we did get used to sitting on the floor and eating with our hands, thanks to these vacations in granny’s house.
Now in my silver years, my breakfast often consists of two slices of buttered toast with a steaming cup of tea. Rarely—and only when I have guests—the breakfast could be upma or idlis and sambar. I sit at the dining table for breakfast after my daughter has left for work, while checking out the news of the day on my iPhone. But the breakfasts in my memories are the ones that were eaten, sitting on the side verandah, looking out over the garden fragrant with Edward roses, enjoying BBJ.
Comments
Lalitha
24 Oct, 2024
Thoroughly enjoyed your story Lakshmi. Almost envy your growing up in such a scenic setting. Great recollection 🙌
Shobha
20 Oct, 2024
enjoyed reading your article, lovely.....
Vatsala
19 Oct, 2024
Hi Lakshmi. Enjoyed every bit of your narration. Your style is so vivid that I could visualise the scene where you would sit by the window for your English breakfast overlooking the Edward roses. Keep it up friend. ❤️
Rema
18 Oct, 2024
* wee bit nostalgic.... auto correction at work!!
Rema
18 Oct, 2024
loved reading your breakfast story Lakshmi. Reference to your dad's Navy life was a week but nostalgic. i also tasted bread and jam for the first time when the military rations provided to us invariably included a large can of jam. we 6 siblings would wipe it clean with in 3 days days flat and wait till the next month's quota was delivered to us. Memories of those huge colonial style bungalows where we grew up came flodding back. yah, those were the days which we can't think of reclaiming!!
Ashok
17 Oct, 2024
Fauji life is uncomparable in terms of experiences and luxurious lifestyle especially large bungalows and attendee staff.
Vivek
17 Oct, 2024
Great writing, Laxmi. As usual. Enjoyed reading this.
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