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cauldron in which a batch of freshly boiled (illegal) banana jam
was slowly cooling.
The jam was still hot and on its sticky scarlet surface, thick
pink froth was dying slowly. Little banana-bubbles drowning deep
in jam and nobody to help them.
The Orangedrink Lemondrink Man could walk in any
minute. Catch a Cochin-Kottayam bus and be there. And Ammu
would offer him a cup of tea. Or Pineapple Squash perhaps. With
ice. Yellow in a glass.
With the long iron stirrer, Estha stirred the thick, fresh jam.
The dying froth made dying frothly shapes.
A crow with a crushed wing.
A clenched chicken‟s claw.
A Nowl (not Ousa) mired in sickly jam.
A sadly swirl.
And nobody to help.
As Estha stirred the thick jam he thought Two Thoughts, and
the Two Thoughts he thought were these:
(a)Anything can happen to Anyone. and
(b)It‟s best to be prepared.
Having thought these thoughts, Estha Alone was happy with
his bit of wisdom.
As the hot magenta jam went round, Estha became a Stirring
Wizard with a spoiled puff and uneven teeth, and then the Witches
of Macbeth.
Fire burn, banana bubble.
Ammu had allowed Estha to copy Mammachi‟s recipe for
banana jam into her new recipe book, black with a white spine.
Acutely aware of the honor that Ammu had bestowed on
him, Estha had used both his best handwritings.
Bananajam (in his old best writing)
Crush ripe banana. Add water to cover and cook on a ~ hot