Longlist – 2026 Gooseberry Pie Annual Writing Competition
by Sara Siddiqui Chansarkar
After 30 days of Ramadan fasting, I rise from bed late on Eid-ul-Fitr morning, only to find that the pot of milk for preparing sheer-khurma, which I had kept in the verandah, the lid pressed under the weight of the mortar-pestle to keep the stray cats away, has turned sour and yellow, the traditional dessert ruined, and with it the holiday too.
While ironing Qasim’s kurta for prayers at the mosque, I imagine his anger when, like every year, he’d come home with his colleagues to find no sheer-khurma in decorative bowls, and, as soon as he leaves, I knock on all the doors in our alley to ask for milk that no one has to spare—their pots are already bubbling on the stoves.
The market’s closed, and it’s my day off from my job as a cook at the dour Sitara Baji’s haveli and, although I don’t want the sight of her face spoiling my day, that’s where I go next because her milkman delivers twice: mornings and evenings.
Sitara Baji, dressed in brocade, thinks I’ve come for money, reminds me of the bowls she has already given me; when I ask her for milk, she says the fickle milkman didn’t come, blames me for using every drop to prepare sheer-khurma last evening, but Baji’s daughter, Resham—home from college for the holiday—offers me a tin of something called milk powder, explains how to mix it, assures me it’s better than the watered milk delivered by milkmen.
I’m skeptical about this modern milk, but with no other option, I thank her before heading home, mix the powder with water to avoid lumps, heat it, and it turns into a rare, creamy texture before I add thin sewaiyan, sugar, and kewra essence.
My husband’s colleagues can’t stop saying “wah-wah!” and “lajawaab!” after tasting the dish, admire the flower-patterned bowls unaware of the chipped bottoms, lick the spoons clean to a shine; later a happy Qasim says that the sheer-khurma is smooth as silk this time, and I nod, thanking Allah in my heart—and the angel, Resham, silk by name and nature.
Sara Siddiqui Chansarkar is an Indian American writer. She is the author of a short-fiction collection, Morsels of Purple, and a prose chapbook, Skin Over Milk. She is currently working on her first novel. More at saraspunyfingers.com.
Photo by Jagoda Kondratiuk on Unsplash
