TASTE OF LOVE

 

Cliched emotions are uncorked at the not-so-cliched tastes

that finds its way on an Easter Sunday.

A spread that reminds me of a woman in a white cotton sari,

toiling in the most ordinary kitchen for extraordinary tastes that seemed effortless.

With a hint of nutmeg in the cookies, a dash of cinnamon in the pancakes, buttered with love,

they tasted just right.

The spicy fish, to the tender prawns, tempered with a composed mind, cooked under simmering heat were,

the day's special when the house hosted her offspring and theirs too.

Cooking was pious, it was worship.

Never did I see her complain, about the battalion she had to feed.

Rather, we saw her churning out, recipes anew for the drooling us, around.

Pineapple wine and banana jam to name a few;

dried and fried goodies were to follow.

Those flavours are what we still retrospect;

about the time that has elapsed.

About her, and her tastes,

still the benchmark for our palate.