Memories

The first memories, of wood smoke
Naresh cooking on firewood.
Running to the kitchen,
through the corridor;
delicious scents wafting from it
of warmth, and succour.

Winters spent in nani's home;
"puas" slow cooked to perfection.
Love ladled out in scoopfuls,
fried a crispy brown tone.

World's best "aloo matar"
with Mummy fussing over
every "poori"  turned out like a ball
fluffy n red, just as I like it.

Shift the kaladeiscope,
see what it throws :
what we choose to remember,
what we forego-
keep the joys, relish  them;
dip into them, as into a treasure trove.