By Aditya Soyanke
Today I heard a love story,
A retelling of a tale long forgotten;
The sizzling romance of the corn and the rains.
The tale was popular in my homeland, the land of snake-charmers they say.
Snakes or not, this story is immensely charming,
‘Cause it was told at forbidden times by the street-vendors under the dark thundering clouds. “Come inside or you’ll catch a cold!”, our parents told; as our tiny unbothered feet splashed the water in nearby puddles. The warning given by our parents unheeded as spicy condiments sprinkled over, kept us wanting for more as we eyed the passionate dance of fire around the slightly-charred corn.
The story had unquestioning love, when retold on the stoves of our kitchen with pitter-patter sounds of the rain coming from outside.
Our mothers knew how to spoil us, adding a sour tang to the story, a few lemon drops maybe.
The story had action, when the corn got into the wrestling ring that were our plates. Me and my siblings fought over the last of the corn cobs. What a funny action sequence it was!
And the epitome of the story was the climax of the many flavours exploding on our tastebuds.
Even though the story was being heard on one of the stoves in a tightly sealed cooking space in an apartment in London today;
It failed to keep the sound of the longing rain’s fervour at bay, bringing back the countless retellings and the nostalgia of the spice, the charm and the unquestionable love my home provided all those years ago.
The corn and the monsoon – an unforgettable tale❤️