Buka Puasa

Today, I had a very naughty buka puasa.
I walked to the local 'market' which is the area grocery store incongrously called 'Steakhouse' which stocks some good cheese, and demanded a big wedge of their best Parmigiano.
I made a pitstop during my ride home, making the cab wait as I crossed a busy road with one goal in mind: fresh cream.
Then I went home and made thick, creamy, carbonara sauce . Which I ate with wholemeal penne (for absolution)
It completely flies against the spirit of restraint and modesty, but I wanted it. Badly.
This weekend I connected for the first time with the Malaysian community in Delhi and was left wondering why the hell I never did it earlier. It was warm, welcoming and a complete homecoming in new territory.
There was good old buka and tarawih - the buka spread had, miraculously, dishes such as ikan patin masak singgang, tempoyak, nangka muda masak lemak, roti jala, kueh kesui, bubur sum-sum and even, keropok lekor. And in full testament to the resourcefulness and tireless energy of the classic Malay woman, two of them (bless their hearts!) had left home at 5.30am that morning to visit a pasar borong in Ghaziapur, some distance away from Delhi, to purchase the local ikan cencaru for a sumptous ikan bakar treat with air asam pre-served at the tables.
And in enjoyment of good food was a distinct sense of fellowship and love of countrymen - the usual jibes, jokes, common references to all things familiar. And wonder of wonders, there was such a sense of optimism about how the country is shaping, shedding its old racial legacies, its conscience stirred into action. There was a lot of hope in that room for tanahku yang berdaulat dan merdeka.....
Most of all, I do love the warm activity of salam bersalam after the prayers are over, the clasping of hands of total strangers, for the briefest of moments.
Biar putih tulang, jangan putih mata.