The Matchmaker by Saman Shad

Author:Saman Shad [Shad, Saman]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781760145910
Publisher: Penguin Random House Australia

Saima texted Kal as soon as she left Ayesha’s place.

I may have found the woman of your dreams.

Chapter 14

Laila had gone all out for what Saima thought would be a quick midweek lunch. There was idli and sambar, dosa with spiced aloo, a coconut chutney along with a mint and coriander one, and if that hadn’t been enough, there was chana daal and fried zucchini on the side, all served with a stack of fluffy rotis.

Saima had managed to put off this meeting for months, but Rahat finally skewered her. ‘Saima, Laila has done so much for us. The least you can do is join me for one lunch with her,’ she had started, as usual. But this time, when Saima gave her go-to answer of ‘Go ahead without me’, Rahat responded, ‘I can’t face walking into that house by myself.’

And that, basically, was that. It wasn’t often that Rahat opted for bare honesty, but god, it was effective when she did. So here they were, sitting in Laila’s backyard as she whipped out an array of delicious food like a magician.

Laila’s weatherboard home in Auburn had clearly seen better days, but the backyard was still the fairy garden Saima remembered. A jungle of potted plants and herbs surrounded a concrete courtyard, with a large vegetable patch still occupying pride of place at the rear of the garden, framed by a couple of lime trees whose fruit would be pickled to make achar every year. It would be where Laila had grown most of the vegetables she was serving them for lunch. As a girl, Saima had helped Laila pick those vegies, learning which ones were ripe for harvest and which ones still needed a bit more time in the sun.

‘I was hoping the kaddu would be ripe enough for me to cook it for you, but unfortunately, as you can see, it’s still a bit small,’ Laila said to her now with a smile, pointing at the underripe pumpkin still on the vine. ‘But everything else is fresh and organic,’ she continued with pride. ‘I don’t use any pesticides, even though it’s hard when the slugs and aphids want to eat into all of my plants! I had such a time last year with curl grubs eating my roots, but I think this spring will be much better.’

They tucked into the feast. ‘You’re enjoying this, yes?’ Laila asked Saima as she piled another couple of idli onto her plate. ‘Remember when you were young and didn’t like my idli? You kept asking your ammy to take you home so you could eat lamb and chicken again.’ Laila had always run a strict vegetarian household due to her South Indian upbringing.

‘It’s delicious, Aunty, thank you,’ Saima replied.

‘I think you soon got used to my cooking, though, maybe even liked it. The chana daal I made especially for you today because it was your favourite back when you stayed with me,’ Laila told her.

Despite her affection for Laila and her hospitality,

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