This was an effortless read. I don't know much about dalit fathers without fruits but I know of fathers who talk love only through fruits and icecreams. The line about stopping at 6,7,8. Orange in mouth is life anew, indeed.
My grandfather also grew up very poor and hungry, and chocolate for him was like fruit for your dad. He’s been gone 18 years now, and I still think of his face when I eat any
I am reading this on a family pilgrimage to India, three months after my own father’s death. It’s so beautiful, round and evocative and reminds me of him. Thank you, Vijeta.
Very moving especially these sentences “You should watch him eat an orange. He eats it as if it’s the last one on earth, as if he is eating it with the memory of not being able to eat one as a child, of never being able to forget what hunger is like.” Thank you.
A lovely piece. It reminds me of how my grandfather used to eat his mangoes (given to him at a certain time every year by a colleague at the airport he worked) safely over the sink.
What a beautiful and poignant essay Vijeta, thank you for writing this. I'm not sure I'll look at fruit quite the same way again.
I enjoyed this a great deal, thank you.
Such beautiful words. Love this “So now, I take the briefest things he says to me and join the dots with everything else he doesn’t”.
This was an effortless read. I don't know much about dalit fathers without fruits but I know of fathers who talk love only through fruits and icecreams. The line about stopping at 6,7,8. Orange in mouth is life anew, indeed.
Beautiful.
Wonderful, a beautifully told tale, thank you 🍊
So good 👌🏽
Beautiful, thank you. I can smell oranges. x
Wonderful
This was beautifully written, Vijeta!
My grandfather also grew up very poor and hungry, and chocolate for him was like fruit for your dad. He’s been gone 18 years now, and I still think of his face when I eat any
I am reading this on a family pilgrimage to India, three months after my own father’s death. It’s so beautiful, round and evocative and reminds me of him. Thank you, Vijeta.
So very beautiful. (Just a little disappointed that there was no no-recipe-testing disclaimer)
Very moving especially these sentences “You should watch him eat an orange. He eats it as if it’s the last one on earth, as if he is eating it with the memory of not being able to eat one as a child, of never being able to forget what hunger is like.” Thank you.
This is poignant and beautiful. Thank you 🙏🏻 🍊
A lovely piece. It reminds me of how my grandfather used to eat his mangoes (given to him at a certain time every year by a colleague at the airport he worked) safely over the sink.