500 Feat entries
The delicious smell of the Hilsha fry made Shima reminisce the days when her mother would fry the fish. The special aroma of the fish would lure them to the kitchen long before the cooking was complete. The moment it was served they would virtually fight for the pieces and the plate would be empty immediately. Her mother would always save some good pieces for their father. Ma herself would only eat a small piece declaring that she had lost her appetite while cooking. Now as her own mouth watered while frying the fish, Shima comprehended that Ma only said that so that her children could delight their taste buds by devouring her share.
Thirty years afterwards Shima was imagining how her own children would feast on the same fish fries. "Time changes but the incidents don't.
That's what legacy leaves for us," Shima mused. Maybe her own daughter would cook the fish fries with the same feelings she and her mother treasured in their hearts.
She made a quick little list of what she must do regarding the fish fries. She must salvage some good pieces for her husband Hasan. She must make sure that her youngest son Faiyaz eats the fish carefully so that the fish bones would not get stuck in his throat. He's such an epicurean that she wouldn't be surprised if he eats several pieces. She knew what Fariz would do. He'd taste the fish, compliment her cooking and potentially wait for his mother to serve another piece. Her daughter Faria doesn't like fish - but this was Hilsha! May be at first she'd eat it unwillingly after eating she'd simply love it and would be bashful to express her appreciation.Shima set the table for dinner. It was still daylight in Oslo, but the clock said that it was dinner time. She couldn't wait to tell her family of how she had managed to obtain the deshi fish inaccessible in Norway.
Her youngest son, the first to be home had a reason for his delay, he said, "Oh Ma, didn't I say you that Paul was supposed to give his birthday treat today? Look my tummy has bulged after eating the triple layered hamburger."
Just then Faria entered. "Oh, Ma! Not fish for dinner! I'll order pizza for myself" Before Shima could speak, she had slammed her door. Fariz came in after some time, greeted her and declared, "I've exam tomorrow…had my dinner with Jon…make sure no one disturbs me!" And he was behind the door where a "Please do not disturb" sign hung.
After an hour when her husband declared that he had no wish to eat the Hilsha which surely contained unhealthy preservatives, Shima found herself throwing the fries to the bin. "How can I have appetite to eat it, after cooking!" she mocked to herself
The only one to relish the sumptuous fries was a homeless man, who happened to rummage a dustbin of Oslo the next day.
By Kazi Priyanka
One Fine Day
May 27 2005, 22:25
By Wasim hasan
Against the tide
Can things get more boring? It was the last period of Tuesday, the teacher left, I was tired and I desperately wanted to go home. But the damn bell wouldn't ring!
By Samira Rahman
It was a dark, wet night. I walking down the sloppy, foggy streets of London, trying to find my way to the post-office. I wanted to complete my assignment quickly and get out of the dismal weather. How homesick I felt! Sometimes, it was all I could to from stopping myself from jumping onto a plane and flying home.
I pulled my raincoat more securely over my chest, checking to see if my hat was on my head if and the precious package was still there. The rain started pouring down harder. I began to feel panicky. I just had to find to post-office before it closed! And to top it all off, I had no clue where I was.
I stopped by a small boy who was standing under a torn umbrella and trying to (unsuccessfully) sell matches. 'Could you please tell me the fastest way to get to the post-office?' I asked thickly. Curiously the boy looked up at my foreign accent and told me what I needed to know.
I hurried to the way he pointed, praying that the post-office hadn't closed. When I reached there, I urgently requested to send a parcel for me by express mail, which had been introduced recently. I knew the fee would cost me dearly but money was no matter. I took out my bag to remove the envelope but to my horror, I couldn't find it! The clerk told me he would give me twenty minutes to look for it, after which he would have to close up.
I rushed out, agitated. That package contained copies of the new top secret submarine that the British were building. The Russians were ready to pay a fine sum to get their hands on them. Since I was already a close friend of the admiral who was in charge of the naval plans, it was a cinch for me to copy them. I was to send them by ordinary post, to avoid suspicion.
As I squinted through the gloom, despair washed over me. I had walked the whole way, it could have fallen anywhere. Suddenly, I remembered that I had had the package before I had met the boy I asked directions from. I retraced my steps and found him. When questioned, fear came into his eyes and he tried to run, but I deftly caught him.
After shaking him quite a bit, he confessed he had pick pocketed my coat but only because he desperately needed money for his mother's operation. I looked at him carefully. He sounded sincere and there was a touch of sadness in his voice. I took pity on him let him go.
With the envelope safely in my possession again, I quickly hurried over to the post-office and waited patiently while the clerk out the necessary stamps on the envelope. 'Seems important' remarked the man, glancing at the ref CONOFIDENTIAL stamped on it. 'It sure is' I replied breezily and walked out.
After a few days, an envelope arrived for me. It was a check from my employers, with an amount written on it that would make anyone swoon. It was so large that I decided to give a quarter of it away to the small boy to make his mother better.
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