What's cooking 'Ma?

Under the curtains of streaming sunlight,
And the particle-stranded rays seeping from the window,
She stands with a ladle,
Savouring the single drop on her palm,
Measuring the sweet, salt and spice.

The pressure cooker beckons with her high pitched whistle,
Like a train on a platform chugging.
The swirls of aroma from the steaming coffee,
The smell of butter from the golden brown toast.

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She rhythmically chops the fresh garden harvest
As she taps her feet to the tapping on the board
The mixer joins in, whirling and swirling
The oven adds to the music with a ring
Her agile feet run to the whoosh of milk
Just in time to settle it down.

She hums a tune as she garnishes her dish,
With fresh mint leaves and a sweet little kiss.
The iron pan sizzles as water drizzles.
The hissing of the dosa and her fissing energy.
She ladles out batter and copious amounts of love.
She taps the wok and tosses the cubes,

Unfazed by the heat and flame.

The water gurgles and bubbles as it waits
For the dry leaves to infuse colour.
She crushes and grinds in a rock mortar
Chillies, cloves and spice.

The spontaneous splutter of mustard and the steam from the soup fills the air,
And out she comes  like a cherub
Holding the dish like a treasure chest.

As the steam settles down,
The battle yard reveals itself.
The spurts of tomato gravy on the wall,
The stove top covered in mustard splutters,
And bursts of curry on the floor.
The mountain pile of dishes in the sink
That keeps growing as she cleans.

The beads of perspiration that decorate her
The blisters, burns and bruises on her
That are disguised so well
With a warm little smile.
When melting in the sweltering heat,
She wets her throat with only a sip
And is careful not to drip.
So tell your 'Ma as you lick the dish
'You are awesome, your dish is a hit'

P. S : You could help her out with the dishes too!!!