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Family @ the round table

I miss those days. The family would gather at the round table for dinner at a preset time. Baba would sit on my right and Ma on the left. Didi was bang opposite. Baba was the only one who helped himself to some extra green chillies. 

Ma did the initial serving. Most days, among other things, we had fish - remaining true to our Bengali tradition. I was elated on the rare occasion when the humble egg played the usurper and replaced the fish.

Our conversations would be many and varied. Didi and I rarely teased each other. Before TV came along to disrupt everything, it was the most profound moment of the day. We proverbially huddled together for a family-meet over food, discussing all that was worthy.

The entry of the TV gave us a semblance of the shape of things to come. I synced our dinner time with the daily soaps. Soon enough, I was so caught in the weekly plots, I thought it best to sit away from the table, in front of the TV. No one protested. I now wish otherwise. Those precious family moments were never to be after that and I forever lost what would have potentially been priceless fond memories in the making.

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