Never say ‘no’ to thosai

Last week, after my article entitled ‘My mom said mooncakes are non-halal’ was published on Malaysiakini, I received a message from a reader, Rani.

With Deepavali around the corner, Rani decided shared her story, which coincidentally was too similar to the scenario experienced by my friend Andrew, whose story the article was based on.

Rani wrote:

“Fa, in the past, colleagues of mine and my husband’s used to come to our house for Deepavali,” Rani wrote. “There used to be a non-stop crowd who just came for my thosai and mutton curry.

“After that, some of them began asking if the mutton was halal. Slowly, they stopped coming and started giving excuses.”

Even the colleagues who continued to visit Rani’s house stopped eating her thosai and mutton curry, and just ate cookies. Soon enough, they started to ask if the cookies were halal. Others took issue with her pet dog, which she kept in the kennel when visitors came over.

“That’s not all, Fa,” she continued. “I have been living in this same taman for 23 years. Back in those days, every Deepavali morning, I used to send my neighbours thosai, putu mayam, mutton curry and various Indian sweets. They were always delighted to receive them.

“But in the last three years, I sometimes end up going home embarrassed, with some of my neighbours refusing to accept food from a non-Muslim.”

As Rani explained, it went beyond just Deepavali. “One of the most heartbreaking experiences I had to go through was when I invited my Muslim friends and neighbours for my daughter's wedding reception two years back.

“Taking place in a hall, I catered the food and beverages from an Indian restaurant in town, but made sure that the food served was halal. Sadly, many of my Muslim friends who came didn’t wait for dinner. A couple of decided to stay, but the rest left right after passing me the angpow.

“Having gone through all of this, I now do what most end up doing. I stopped inviting Muslims to any of my function.

“It saddens me not to have my friends around, but I guess it is ultimately their loss, for they are now no longer able to have my fabulous thosai and mutton curry!” she said.

Reading Rani’s texts left me feeling a little sad, because it reminded me of the lady we called Pathi (grandmother in Tamil) who lived in the house next door during my childhood. Pathi, who was blind in one eye, shared her home with Tata (grandfather) and their five children.

Seeing a family very different from ours made me and my brother quite suspicious of them. We were just kids, and we thought everything they did was quite peculiar!

They would burn incense and ring a bell every time it was close to maghrib; blast the radio speaker every afternoon to listen to MGR songs; draw colourful designs on the floor outside their gate; pluck jasmine flowers every morning for their mini temple; and leave a silver tumbler filled with milk outside an anthill in their backyard every evening.

However, my brother and I became quite fond of Pathi during the first Deepavali after becoming neighbours. On that day, she and her children brought over large trays of wonderful homemade murukku, cookies, sweets, cakes and pudding. As a five-year-old, I was ecstatic.

I still remember my mom emptying Pathi’s trays and replacing it with sugar before returning them. My mom told us that Deepavali is a happy occasion, and by sharing the cookies and sweets with us, Pathi and her family were actually sharing their happiness with us. And so the right thing to do was to return the gesture with our own symbol of happiness.

Every Deepavali thereafter, Pathi and her family continued to share their joy with us. And our families began sharing other food items on daily basis as well. For every adhirasam, vadai and helping of chicken varuval they sent our way, we never returned the containers empty.

Pathi passed away more than 10 years ago. But the sharing of happiness between our families she started a long time ago still continues.

Of course, we have our ups and downs. Her family today have almost a dozen dogs who bark non-stop, keeping my elderly parents awake at night. My brother’s occasional drumming sessions kept their children awake. But thanks to the close relationship we shared, we managed our differences pretty well.

We trusted Pathi’s family so much that when my parents left for Mecca to perform the haj some time ago, they passed the house keys to Pathi’s children, who were more than happy to help water the plants and keep an eye on our home for over a month. And upon my parents’ return from the holy land, Pathi’s children and grandchildren came to visit, wishing them well.

Pathi and her family practice a different religion, but having spent more than three decades living next to each other, they are some of the closest “family members” my parents have. During emergencies, it is Pathi’s family whom my parents depend on for assistance, and vice versa.

It is unfortunate that Rani had to go through such disheartening episodes with the people she was so fond of. But despite Rani’s bad experience with her Muslim neighbours, colleagues and friends, I believe there are many Muslims and non-Muslims living in this country who share a special bond like Pathi’s family and mine.

I do sincerely hope that one day, Rani’s neighbours, colleagues and friends, who shied away from her gift of love, gain the wisdom to find a path back to her home on Deepavali. After all, no one should say no to hot crispy thosai and a jolly good pot of spicy mutton curry.

Have a wonderful Deepavali.

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FA ABDUL is a passionate storyteller, a growing media trainer, an aspiring playwright, a regular director, a struggling producer, a self-acclaimed photographer, an expert Facebooker, a lazy blogger, a part-time queen and a full-time vainpot.- Mkini