Pachidi time.
The last time I made the pachidi, it turned out to be a disastrous year. Does this mean I should never, ever, ever, never again make pachidi?
Not this year, at any rate. What are mothers for, right?
Happy New Year, folks.
Update: My mum's pachidi this year was low on sweet, though th emango from our tree tried hard to redress the imbalance (for some reason, the raw mangoes from our tree have never been even faintly khatta). The neem flowers I plucked from the University roughly a month ago were generous with their bitterness.
This must mean something; pachidi making is a delicate tight-rope act between prophecy and wish-fulfillment. I wonder what the year will bring?