She sat on the hard floor and greased her hands with oil. She held the firm stalk of the banana tree flower and observed it, mentally calculating the many layers of sepals that cradled dozens and dozens of flowers that she would rip away, and cut. She removed the first layer of the deep purple sepals and gently tugged out the pearl coloured flowers, she prized open the tips of the flowers and pinched the black seeds out. Her mother had taught her how to do this fast, and had warned her that if she were to skip this out of laziness, the dish would turn bitter. She dexterously held the bunch of flowers together and chopped them finely. She soaked the chopped flowers in butter milk to remove the residual bitterness. As she peeled the layers of sepals they turned a lotus pink in colour, the flowers turned translucent and fragile.