Inside the airport .
it is fearful.
People move in mad spree.
Heavy luggage make
the trolleys rumble and screech.
I, with a small bag, enter the gates
Check in at the counter. Collect
the boarding pass. Walk the stretch.
The security check follows.
My little one goes through the scanner.
As it comes out the content rattles.
Not musical but curious.
The officers smile at me.
Ask what is inside? I quip
it is my bread and butter.
Not exact. It has soft idlis
smothered in tomato chutney.
I carry them wherever I go,
while I fly or drive, other than that
I take little— a set of dress.
Meenas Poems 