Cold chain

I could tell Jet aji8217;s fridge, even if I were blindfolded, by the whiff of the sauntering freshness of dewdrops, over freshly picked marigolds. Jet ajo will eventually use these for his morning and evening puja. The neatly stacked blue and white Tupperware boxes stand tall and protect the crisp fragrance of all the food tucked away inside them. These modest boxes have powered nearly a dozen books on cookery that Jet aji has authored, not to mention gastronomical extravaganzas on several summer vacations.

Swing open the door and four Pearlpet plastic bottles will wobble sleepily to attention, as if taken aback by a surprise inspection. Each bottle contains boiled and filtered water, with strict instructions to grandchildren to retain the water levels. Standing close by are the omnipresent beer and soft drink bottles, which will be served and replaced at noon over an intense game of scrabble.

Above the bottles lies the rack, which is a summary of my grandparent8217;s preoccupations: boxes of Top Flite XL golf balls and tiny bottles of glistening essences, flavours and food colours. Messing around with the former would invoke nothing less than the wrath of Don Vito Corleone.

Move higher up and the freezer holds the end product of sheer scientific genius: beer mugs with inbuilt ice, a provision against the catastrophic event of chilled beer shortage. So in case the afternoon drags over anything from a heated political argument to a post-mortem of the last wedding in the family, the beer flows on.

At the end of it all, the point of the story is not the fridge, not cold reading but Jet aji and ajo. Undeniably, the secret of eternal youth is a rich complex of interests.