Growing up I ate white steamed rice everyday for lunch.
My grandmother who lived with us,
Served me hot steamed rice as soon as I returned form school.
Always accompanied by a curry cooked by my mother early in the morning before she left for work.
When I was living away in Delhi for my studies,
Food was never the same.
No matter what i ate, it never made me content.
The hot white steamed rice served by my grandmother,
Her love to cook it exactly 30 mins before I arrived,
The curry my mom cooked despite lack of sleep from the night before,
And the warmth with which my plate was given to me
Is only now in my memories.
And every time I look at a plate of rice
It takes me back to a time where I felt like a baby wrapped in a blanket.
