An Ode to Nana's home
About my Granny
My maternal Granny has been eighty for eighty years. and it often surprises me how springy she still is. The other day while visiting, I barely noticed her disappearing in a puff of smoke (I was helping my aunt with something), and then there was an ice cream cone under my nose. My granny, you see, had gone to the nearby shop when I was distracted and brought the aforementioned cone back before I could say, “Granny! I just had breakfast.”
She has been eighty for eighty years! I don’t know how she does this.
The whole episode reminded me of a prose poem I wrote about my childhood days at her place. Enjoy.
Chocolate: An ode to Nana's home
My nana always gave my sister and me ten rupees each as a token of love. And we walked to the shop around the corner, waving our loot like rich pirates. I liked Cadbury best and unwrapped it and had a piece, sometimes two, before we reached the door. Then begged my sister to share her own.
All these happenings are one, oh! Two decades old. And older still as the poem goes on.
Yesterday, I went to the shop around the corner. I opened the case of chocolates and with my treasure-hunting hands picked a Cadbury. I stowed it in my pocket, its wrapper pristine, and it reached home intact without any mischief. The chocolate belonged to my niece. “Let’s melt it,” she said. “And add fennel seeds.” But we lacked the moulds for shaping the thing, and the chocolate looked so welcoming.
I ate one, maybe two, pieces of squares designed so neatly as if meant for sharing.
She ate more than two.
The taste after so long felt like a tender hello from an old friend.
– Rohtash
