Mid-April brings memories
Of my mother’s tamarind pachadi
Laced with neem tree flowers
Gently dried and crispy fried
A glorious melange of flavours
Sour, sweet and salty
The blossoms slightly bitter
And I have her voice in my head
Reminding me that life too
Is a concoction of tastes
Where the bitterness of grief
Enhances our gratitude for joy.
Of my mother’s tamarind pachadi
Laced with neem tree flowers
Gently dried and crispy fried
A glorious melange of flavours
Sour, sweet and salty
The blossoms slightly bitter
And I have her voice in my head
Reminding me that life too
Is a concoction of tastes
Where the bitterness of grief
Enhances our gratitude for joy.
Love the imagery and flavours of the poem :-)
ReplyDeleteThank you Charumati, I was almost tasting the pachadi as I wrote this :)
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