I heard a glass tumbler falling to the ground and breaking into a thousand pieces. That was the ring tone of my cell phone. I could see my wife grimacing from a distance. She never liked this ringtone. ‘Be your age’, she had told me many times but I failed to see ringtones having anything to do with age. I picked up the cell and saw that it was my daughter calling. ‘Dad’ she said and I responded saying ‘Yes, dad speaking’. Old habits die hard you know. This was how we were taught to answer phone calls while I was in the Bank. ‘State Bank’ the caller would ask and I would respond saying ‘yes, State Bank here’. I would answer so not because I forgot my personal name but because that was how we were groomed to respond. My daughter asked me if I was free in the evening or I was tied up with anything. I told her that I had never been freer in my life and assured her that nothing could tie me up anymore. ‘Why are you asking about my evening status?’ I asked her. ‘Let’s go out for dinner, dad’, she said and added that she was planning to take us to a surprising eatery. ‘Suits me’, I responded. I asked her if we should come on our own or she would pick us up. ‘Of course, I will pick you up, dad’ she assured me. The evening came and I had a quick shower. I combed my beard as I had nothing on the head to comb. I fished out a shirt and a pant that were more tolerable than the rest of my apparel. My daughter arrived on time to pick us up. She took one look at me and grimaced. She announced that we would pick a couple of shirts for me from her favorite apparel shop before we went for our dinner. So we went to the shop and picked up a couple of shirts. I knew that it was a wasteful exercise as I had grown accustomed to my old shirts. It was unthinkable to replace them with new shirts. After she settled the bill in the shop, we moved on to the hotel. It was a swank place that specialized in sizzlers which I loved more than my life. Looking at the long face of my wife, my daughter assured her that the hotel had also conventional dishes like cauliflower dosa and beetroot idly. My wife seemed more uncomfortable after hearing the description of the conventional items. When the steward came to our table to take our orders with a small gadget in his hand, I ordered for a vegetable sizzler while my wife and daughter ordered for less fanciful items. As the steward took our order, he smilingly remarked that I was the oldest among his customers that ordered for a sizzler. ‘Why are you crazy about sizzlers, dad’, asked my daughter. I told her that I loved the way it was served. We waited for an eternity when we heard the hissing sound of the approaching sizzler. I sat up in my seat like a war horse reacted at the sound of bugle. The noise got more marked as the bearer approached my table and he placed the dish in front of me. Though it fell into silence in a short while, I was not to be fooled by the noiselessness. I remembered how I burnt my tongue in my first exposure to a sizzler. I tapped the wooden thingummy bearing the vessel holding the sizzler affectionately. ‘Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, Or what's a heaven for?’ I murmured remembering gratefully Robert Browning. ‘What?’, my daughter asked me and I replied that I was just wondering how long I should wait before I commenced eating. Very soon, the sizzler ended up in my comfortable tummy that had room for anything eatable. The steward came to our table and inquired if we wanted any dessert, I asked him if they had ‘tiramisu’ ‘Why that item, dad?’, my daughter inquired. I told her that I liked it because it sounded similar to the opening line of the prayer that I chanted daily. Since they did not have it, I ordered for ‘falooda’ because I liked the way it came dressed up unlike me. After the formality of settling the bill for whatever we consumed was over, we left the place. When we reached home, my wife rushed to the kitchen and made herself some curd rice. ‘God knows how you eat such food’, she exclaimed which was just faintly audible as her mouth was full of curd rice.