Ramassery Idli
It blooms
in the steam,
white and velvety.
What makes it unique
is its shape and taste. True
culinary art is created in the heart.
Ajinomoto is never sprinkled for a harmful
delight. The old purity prevails in the batter of rice,
black gram, fenugreek, and salt, challenging time. The
idli brings a hamlet into the limelight. Like a ballad, its recipe
and cuisine have been passed down. I goggle at it before gobbling.
No gripe. Eupeptic. My fatigue does vanish in the relish. It’s not the
painted wall, but the warm air and the delicious dish that linger in my soul.
First published in The Literary Hatchet
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