Eating French Fries in New York

I am reminded of winters at my mother’s home in Ranchi

with its unending supply of grilled shakarkand

sprinkled with chaat masala & endless cups of ginger tea

& Sundays at the vegetable market ensconced in the fragrance

of coriander, green beyond compare & dewey

beside pyramids of yellow lemons glistening

& the best of fresh radishes & peas for paranthas

splattered with butter & red carrots, tender

& perfect for gajar ka halwa

& a plate of afternoon khichdi, steam rising

to fill the heart with a little bit of nostalgia

followed by blankets basking in the sun

brought in from the clothesline

warm and toasty - a little sunshine with each thread

to wrap into a dreamless nap

that drowns out the tick...tick...ticking

of time.