One such gift came from one of our students (let’s call her Pi) in our medical transcription school. She is actually from India, and is in the Philippines only for a year while her husband fulfills a contract with his multi-national employer.
To while away her time, she decided to take up medical transcription. What makes Pi stand out from among our current students is that she wears only her country’s traditional costumes—lovely and well-coordinated prints—which never cease to surprise and delight us.
One day she arrived with an extra bag; inside was a dish she cooked herself.
“I don’t serve my husband and kid any food prepared outside of the home,” she said.
“You do all the cooking?!” I asked, mouth agape. For someone who has zero credentials in cooking, I stand in awe of people who have.
Then she brought out a dish with mouth-watering brown balls that I’ve never seen the likes of.
“Gulab jamun,” she said. “For the three of you.”
We didn’t have to be prompted twice. The balls were melt-in-your-palate goodness, with a taste so alien and so perfect. They were gone in minutes.
What made them sweeter was the fact that Pi slaved over a hot stove for us, sharing a part of herself.
Grace, which deluges our days, also comes in sweet brown balls and through a sweet friend named Pi.
No comments:
Post a Comment