Some people hardly eat anything at all. You know the kind that carefully scrapes the cream off pastries before they take a nibble. On the rare occasion that they can be coaxed into eating a puri, they blanket the fried bread in tissue paper and wring them tightly to remove excess oil. You wouldn’t take them to a buffet meal because they don’t eat your money’s worth of food and this compels you to down twice your usual quota, in the pretext of making up for the grave injustice they have done to the chef’s efforts. They even claim that ice creams give them a headache!
My mother, my very own mother, is one of those people who eat to live and not vice versa. So much is the difference between our food habits that I sometimes think there may be some merit to my brother’s claim that I was picked off some grubby street when I was a baby. She is as far removed from gluttony as Salman is from his shirt. But is it, I mean, is my mom’s eating habits (and not Salman’s shirt or the lack of it) some