At 7:30 on a Sunday evening, I am sitting and watching India-South Africa match with my Dad. And I am doing it like after ages. He looks at the watch and then me. I know what he wants , but wait for his signal. And there he gestures for a glass like he always does. By now I am already half up to fetch him his favourite scotch (it has been maturing for a while) or wait may be whisky (he hasn’t that for a while). Just then he says the most astonishing thing in the world- can you bring me a glass of warm milk with adequate amount of sugar and good amount of bournvita. And don’t put any water in it. I am already too stunned to react and all I say is wait who puts water in bournvita. While I make bournvita for him I wonder who drinks HOT BOURNVITA ON A SUNDAY EVENING. While my thoughts are hanging around the blurb over my head, I watch him relishing his hot-sweet bournvita with childlike innocence.
And I remember something and everything settles in and around my head. I remember he turned 60 last autumn.
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