Utensils

Plates

My parents’ stainless steel plates for every day (almost always South Indian) meals. 

The one on the left with the rim was my father’s. At the end of the meal he’d lift his plate and pour any fluid left over (rasam,sāmbār or the whey from yogurt) into his mouth. 

The one on the right, slightly deeper and rimless, was my mother’s. She’d run her right hand across the rim to scrape off any food sticking to it, and then scoop that residue up with her thumb into her smacking lips. 

I hated both “rituals with victuals” then. Now they are endearing memories of my parents. How time changes our perspectives. 

Glasses (or tumblers)

These are the two stainless steel glasses my brother and I grew up drinking milk or water out of. Every day.

The one on the right has a small dent in it. (Perhaps accidental, perhaps due to an outburst), By some unspoken convention in the family that glass was assigned to my brother. I once drank over-boiled milk from it, which tasted like
(brinjal/aubergine/eggplant) to me, so I henceforth would never drink from that glass. 

The one on the right has a little notch in its lip. This was mine. I swear I didn’t nibble into it to make up for some iron deficiency.

More tumblers

These were the ones my parents used. My father the marginally larger one, my mother the very slightly smaller one. To pour water, buttermilk, and other liquids, including hot fluids, into their waiting gullets.