Our social life sometimes becomes a little too much for our (ageing) digestive systems, particularly the RE's.
This last weekend was a case in point. We had lunched at a Lebanese/Middle Eastern restaurant on Saturday, and the leftover prawns came home with us and were promptly kept in the fridge. We were out for lunch again on Sunday, had a late nap, some theplas with our tea, and then ate bhelpuri when we were out watching a movie. An (almost) midnight dinner followed once we were home.
On Monday morning the weather was wonderful: cool, cloudy, and there had been some rain too. It was calling out for pakodas, but I did not succumb to the lure of fried food early in the morning, and settled for besan cheelas instead. By lunchtime, though, the RE thought that rice and dal would be easier to digest, so we had that with a salad. Dinner was light too. We decided to ask the maid if she was interested in the prawns, since there seemed to be no possibility of the RE having them. (I'm a vegetarian). He also had a couple of glasses of fresh lime with soda. Digestive system obviously not happy.
The maid took the prawns home on Tuesday. On Tuesday the RE has an upset stomach. He is travelling the next day, but doesn't want to a) consult a doctor; b) take Imodium; c) start a course of Norflox. Hence we tackle the situation with bananas, coconut water, Yakult (a probiotic drink), and really thin khichdi for lunch. By evening he pronounces himself better, and has a normal light dinner.
Early on Wednesday morning he leaves. I go for a walk. Our maid is usually in by seven-fifteen or so,
but by the time I realize that she isn't in yet, it's already seven-forty. This particular girl does not have a cell phone, so there's no way I can contact her. I do the dishes and as much clearing up as I can manage before the yoga teacher comes. I have a busy day ahead of me, and am out till evening. An underlying anxiety remains. I sincerely hope that her absence wasn't caused by the prawns.
Thursday morning dawns cool and damp. There was a storm at night. I go for my walk, hoping to see the reassuring sight of the maid heading towards her first house of the day, but no such luck. I am now quite concerned and fairly anxious, and also feeling very guilty.Why didn't we just chuck the prawns in the dustbin? Why did we get them packed in the first place? I sincerely hope that no one in her house is seriously ill because of the wretched prawns. I water the plants. I pick up the newspapers. I make myself a cup of tea, all with mounting anxiety. At seven forty-five the doorbell rings. It is the maid. (Thank God). She says she had a terrible stomach ache the previous day. I die of guilt. I ask her if she had any prawns. She says that her husband had them all, and he's fine. (More thanks to God). She doesn't eat prawns!
Image courtesy: https://www.themediterraneandish.com/grilled-shrimp-recipe-garlic-cilantro-sauce/
This last weekend was a case in point. We had lunched at a Lebanese/Middle Eastern restaurant on Saturday, and the leftover prawns came home with us and were promptly kept in the fridge. We were out for lunch again on Sunday, had a late nap, some theplas with our tea, and then ate bhelpuri when we were out watching a movie. An (almost) midnight dinner followed once we were home.
On Monday morning the weather was wonderful: cool, cloudy, and there had been some rain too. It was calling out for pakodas, but I did not succumb to the lure of fried food early in the morning, and settled for besan cheelas instead. By lunchtime, though, the RE thought that rice and dal would be easier to digest, so we had that with a salad. Dinner was light too. We decided to ask the maid if she was interested in the prawns, since there seemed to be no possibility of the RE having them. (I'm a vegetarian). He also had a couple of glasses of fresh lime with soda. Digestive system obviously not happy.
The maid took the prawns home on Tuesday. On Tuesday the RE has an upset stomach. He is travelling the next day, but doesn't want to a) consult a doctor; b) take Imodium; c) start a course of Norflox. Hence we tackle the situation with bananas, coconut water, Yakult (a probiotic drink), and really thin khichdi for lunch. By evening he pronounces himself better, and has a normal light dinner.
Early on Wednesday morning he leaves. I go for a walk. Our maid is usually in by seven-fifteen or so,
but by the time I realize that she isn't in yet, it's already seven-forty. This particular girl does not have a cell phone, so there's no way I can contact her. I do the dishes and as much clearing up as I can manage before the yoga teacher comes. I have a busy day ahead of me, and am out till evening. An underlying anxiety remains. I sincerely hope that her absence wasn't caused by the prawns.
Thursday morning dawns cool and damp. There was a storm at night. I go for my walk, hoping to see the reassuring sight of the maid heading towards her first house of the day, but no such luck. I am now quite concerned and fairly anxious, and also feeling very guilty.Why didn't we just chuck the prawns in the dustbin? Why did we get them packed in the first place? I sincerely hope that no one in her house is seriously ill because of the wretched prawns. I water the plants. I pick up the newspapers. I make myself a cup of tea, all with mounting anxiety. At seven forty-five the doorbell rings. It is the maid. (Thank God). She says she had a terrible stomach ache the previous day. I die of guilt. I ask her if she had any prawns. She says that her husband had them all, and he's fine. (More thanks to God). She doesn't eat prawns!
