Laced with memories, grandma's kitchen called out to me,
As I stepped in, I recalled how it was once filled with the smell of ghee.
She would prepare steaming hot aloo parathas in the shape of triangles,
And tell us stories about the fairies and also the big bad wolves of the jungles.
Each time we visited her, we had so much to look forward to,
Sometimes, she would make us sit on her lap and read to us too.
She would tell us how good always triumphed over the evil,
And then sing a lullaby for us with a touch so gentle.
On the cold nights, grandma used to give us her famous hot chocolate to drink,
It was her secret recipe; even the thought of it now makes my heart sink.
Once upon a time, my grandma's kitchen was full of smiles and spark,
In her absence, now the 'kitchen' feels so lonely and stark.
© Ila Garg
As I stepped in, I recalled how it was once filled with the smell of ghee.
She would prepare steaming hot aloo parathas in the shape of triangles,
And tell us stories about the fairies and also the big bad wolves of the jungles.
Each time we visited her, we had so much to look forward to,
Sometimes, she would make us sit on her lap and read to us too.
She would tell us how good always triumphed over the evil,
And then sing a lullaby for us with a touch so gentle.
On the cold nights, grandma used to give us her famous hot chocolate to drink,
It was her secret recipe; even the thought of it now makes my heart sink.
Once upon a time, my grandma's kitchen was full of smiles and spark,
In her absence, now the 'kitchen' feels so lonely and stark.
© Ila Garg
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