bogeyandruby

Random stuff, reflections on the meaning of life and death, humour, self-deprecation, a bit of bad poetry.

There is no better endorsement of a restaurant than one that is frequented by patrons who hail from the same part of the world as the food served there. When they do concede to eat there, it is always somewhat begrudgingly, rarely complimenting the food beyond, « It’s okay. » or, « I could have made the same thing at home for free. »

This particular restaurant is situated in a little strip mall I refer to as Little India, two traffic lights north of the street where my parents used to live and coincidentally, the same number of lights from the cemetery where my father’s remains are buried.

My father referred to himself as East Indian but in pre-Partition India, between the ages of eight to sixteen, he lived in what we now refer to as Pakistan. Shahi Palace serves Pakistani cuisine and is cheerfully amenable to dining in or take-out. It is a family-run restaurant which means boisterous children, visiting uncles and conciliatory ex-husbands are most welcome.

My dad’s favourite thing to order there, at least at one time, was mutton curry. He meant lamb, of course, but mutton sounded so much cooler. Nothing made him happier than treating family and friends to a meal and if he wasn’t going to cook one himself, he’d make reservations at Shahi Palace.

During the pandemic, like so many of us, he did mostly take-out and in the last few months of his life, when his congested heart could no longer tolerate the spicy, savoury food he so loved to eat, he ordered a special dish of no-salt brinjal (eggplant) curry, courtesy of the owner.

We managed to survive the sadness of Christmas Day without him, his absence so acutely obvious, and not wishing to host another bleak party, I suggested we plan a New Year’s Eve lunch at the restaurant, my way of simultaneously buffering that sadness while honouring it.

I called the restaurant to reserve a table of five for tomorrow noon under my family name. Without missing a beat, the owner said, « Cheema. Yes, I know him. »

Sometimes grief strikes like an arrow. This was one of those times.

My dad, in better days, preparing food.

6 thoughts on “Shahi Palace

  1. SS says:

    The waves of grief, they come hard. Although it was already 2 christmas without both my parents, it was harder than last year. But, as they say, time heals all things or at least numbs it. Hang in there, love you.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. bogeyandruby says:

      Thanks, Sylvie, i love you too ❤️🤗

      Like

  2. preetinder cheema says:

    and Sharon…., if I ever get back to Canada we will go to the Shahi Palace for mutton curry with all the trimmings followed by a special dish of no-salt brinjal

    Liked by 1 person

    1. bogeyandruby says:

      You’re on, cuz xx

      Like

  3. Jane says:

    “Grief strikes like an arrow”. Indeed. When one least expects it. May 2023 bring more smiles to your family.

    Like

    1. bogeyandruby says:

      Thanks so much, Jane. All the best to you and yours too. Xox

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Fevers of the Mind

Writing, Poetry, Short Stories, Reviews, Art Contests

Melanie Spencer

Watercolour Artist

pagesofjulia

Julia Kastner, Writer. my reading and reactions.

amiviku

Analyse own life

FabFourBlog

Notes on Seeing, Reading & Writing, Living & Loving in The North

ART WORLD BLOG

This is an Art Blog covering many topics to do with art, how to draw and paint tutorials, style, as well as creativity in general. We blog about art, photography, recommend related products and give our best SEO tips for artists and bloggers. We'd love to hear from you so get in touch if you want to start up a conversation or a collaboration!

Thoughts from a Fat Old Lady

This is the stuff this fat old lady thinks about

rOsalia Cerro

Sustainable Graphic Design Solutions • Solutions en graphisme durable

Changing On The Fly

A Podcast on Hockey & Politics

Grieving maman

Surviving the loss of my son

Books for Life

Here you will find information about all my books and about my crazy thoughts.

Silent Songs of Sonsnow

"I have enough time to rest, but I don't have a minute to waste". Come and catch me with your wise words and we will have some fun with our words of wisdom.

Family In the 2020s

Cool Family Ideas

%d bloggers like this: