Column | Gulkand ice cream and ambition Premium

Phuphee’s lesson in an icy treat about women’s dreams, freedom and agency

I had just finished my first year at medical school, and was visiting Phuphee for the summer holidays. The days were hot but a constant breeze made the heat tolerable, even pleasurable at times. One such hot, breezy afternoon, an elderly gentleman and his wife arrived.

When it was hot, Phuphee usually made ice cream. She would put together all sorts of flavours, depending on her mood and on what the wind told her to expect — in terms of the people who would come seeking guidance. Early that morning, I had helped her churn cream for the gulkand ice cream she was making.

We were sitting in the garden, under the shade of a giant chinar tree, when the couple walked in. She greeted them and asked what had brought them to see her.

‘We are a little embarrassed by what we have come to seek help for,’ the gentleman began. ‘You see, we have a son. He is married and has a four-year-old son. Our daughter-in-law is a teacher, and she works in the local school. Our son is a teacher, too. Everything has been well so far, by the grace of Allah, but now our daughter-in-law has decided that she wants to study further.’

‘For this she will have to travel to Srinagar and stay there for at least three to four days every week. The child cannot go with her for obvious reasons. She is proposing that the child stay with us on the days she travels. It is not feasible for our family. Our daughter-in-law has refused to listen to our pleas. We need your help. Could you speak to her and explain how the child will suffer, and how the family will break down.’

Phuphee sat quietly before turning to the gentleman’s wife. ‘Tche kyah chekh dapaan [what do you say]?’

‘I don’t know what kind of mother even considers leaving her child behind to go off and do some degree. She has degrees, what does she need more for? Yei chaa sonchanas laayak kanh kath [is this something to even think about]?’ she replied, clearly very cross.