https://latest.thedailyguardian.com/literature/the-choices-we-make/May 1, 2023, 1:29 amhttps://latest.thedailyguardian.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/05/download-32.jpegLiteratureMy mother wore soft gloves to protect her hands whilstcooking because dad claimed often and vociferously, that he could not abide anyone else’s food – by “anyone else” he meant,of course, the poor, unwashed masses who sought kitchen duty. Why did ...https://latest.thedailyguardian.com/literature/the-choices-we-make/May 1, 2023, 1:29 amhttps://latest.thedailyguardian.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/05/download-32.jpegLiteratureIt was an odd hour. Around 11.45 am. Perhaps that accounted for the slightly rumpled, desultory state of the restaurant my girlfriend and I picked for lunch. A hostess had us seated but then disappeared in the back, where, from the clamour and cla...https://latest.thedailyguardian.com/literature/the-choices-we-make/May 1, 2023, 1:29 amhttps://latest.thedailyguardian.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/05/download-32.jpegLiteratureMy husband, because we were on vacation and full to the brim with vitamin D and bonhomie, or possibly because he wanted to show off his Punjabi, always greeted him with a “SasryakalSardarji. Ki haalhain?” He was wary, at first, the doorman. Unused...https://latest.thedailyguardian.com/literature/the-choices-we-make/May 1, 2023, 1:29 amhttps://latest.thedailyguardian.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/05/download-32.jpegLiteratureIt was as if a malevolent spirit made up its mind to devote all its time to rolling up construction dust, traffic fumes, and spittle bombs into tight little wads to assault my husband with, the moment he walked out the door. Succumb! Succumb! It s...https://latest.thedailyguardian.com/literature/the-choices-we-make/May 1, 2023, 1:29 amhttps://latest.thedailyguardian.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/05/download-32.jpegLiteratureOne seldom rises at the hour of prayer, thinking, let me be neglectful to the elderly parent, relative or in-law living under my roof, today. But somewhere between shrugging into a starched shirt and biting into your morning toast, the brain goes ...