No heavenly manna
Or a nectar induced
sweetmeat from a
royal kitchen could rival
the moong dal halwa
made by my Amma,
which she cooked painstakingly for hours
as the daal paste separated
from the desi ghee
and the sugar syrup
soaked in the fragrance
of cardamoms fused in,
moving those frail but
hardworking arms
turning the gigantic
spatula in a colossal wok
on the make shift Chulha
in our weedy backyard.
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