In a disturbed early morning slumber
a brewing desire
and then it came
Nostalgia.
It's sweet fragrance
wafting into my senses
the pleasure of pain
from a time in childhood.
My senses beckoned me
I sought it out today
the familiar taste
Yum. Lemon rice it was.
The just crisped onions
the almost friend peanuts
the sweet tingling lime
simmered in a yellowed rice
ah! The lemon rice from my childhood.
It was a Sunday ritual
from our favourite joint
It had no name
like most good places.
Just known by its owner
Ranganna, he was
A balding, paunchy man
with a busy smile.
A packet of the glorious yellow
with a stingy sprinkling
of spicy chutney
perfect for a Sunday morning.
Most times it was dad
who made the trip,
on his rickety Bajaj
sometimes, inviting me to join him.
We could never have a full packet
for we had to share,
learnt to share
knowing to stay within our means.
Sometimes mom sneaking her share
onto a our emptying plate.
while we savoured every bite
of the delicious Lemon Rice.
It was that kind of memory today.
While I got the lemon rice
the experience of family
on a Sunday morning
sharing the ritual
was sorely missing.
Each could have a packet-ful
and more
and yet, I sat there alone
eating my fill, amongst strangers.
Wishing, pleading, seeking
my childhood to come back
just for a moment
just for a moment.
so I could fret and fume
that I had to share
and yet find joy
in the sharing.
A silent prayer
gratitude
to my father
for this childhood memory.
A memory
that rekindles Nostalgia
known only to someone
that still seeks.
