Come Sundays, we rejoice,
food served during
breakfast and lunch,
not much of dinner.
Would be sambar bath ,
with papad, plain rice
with avial and chips.
payasam in the run.
all too much to eat
but we did till we
licked our fingers dry.
With the retinue of chefs
helpers, who were excellent
food technicians, the execution
was perfect, one which I retrospect
with a fall back. Where have
all of them gone? Has their tribe
got extinct?
with the maid
I am having.
am able to prepare
the very basic ones.
however much I teach her
she makes a mess of the whole
turns them insipid and taste.
Years of rich gourmet
have spoilt me, I crave
for the delicacies. which
seem unattainable,
Meenas Poems 