Mini and the R ajma Beans

"The moon is rather brown today," Mini thought as she looked up from the balcony of her city flat, "just like my Rajmachawal dinner."

- Suchitra Ramadurai

She was sitting there on a hammock, staring into the night sky, munching through her dinner of rice-andrajma with papad and tomato chutney.

Mini looked into her bowl and sighed. There was a good half of it left, and she was already feeling full.

"Soudamini, you have five minutes to finish your dinner," came her mother's voice from the kitchen. She had called Mini by her full name, which indicated that she was not very happy-in this situation, about Mini lingering over her meal too long.

That was enough of a kick, and so Mini drew herself up. In a few quick sweeps of her spoon, Mini finished her meal. "Oh my, this is going to make me gassy," she thought as she walked into the living room where her father was reading a science magazine.

"Papa, what are beans made of?"

"What do you mean, Mini?" Papa asked, removing his glasses and lowering the magazine.

"I mean, what are they made of? Are they made of maida or potato paste? Or perhaps cheese? And how do they get their brown skins? They must be made in a factory, right?" Mini was expecting quick answers from Papa, who was now smiling as he wiped his reading glasses with the end of his kurta.

"You know very well Mini, if you shoot that many questions at me at the same time, I will ask you to come sit here so I can explain the answers to you," Papa reasoned.

"Oh alright!" shrugged Mini, "let me wash my bowl and then I will come sit with you."

In the kitchen, Mini found Mama cleaning up the counter and putting away the leftovers into their fridge.

"Ah Mini," she said, "there you are! I was hoping you'd help me take out the trash. Would you?" Uh-oh! This was a job Mini did not like because the frogs that lurked near the cement dustbin outside would spring out when they sensed movement and startled her.