The Great Indian Roadside Lunch
A vehicle stops ahead of me, reverses and halts completely.
Out come eight people tumbling, ohhh it is only food for which they are fumbling.
Music starts, the boxes comes put, a little vomit and sounds are loud. My peace has gone, the children are laughing on, adults are wary and the water gets spilled from.
Smiles turn broad, food is ready and the Great Indian roadside lunch is about to start.
They put lumps of rice and a sprinkling of dal, a pinch of pickle and some vegetables dry. The mother serves them all, just as in home and proceeds to eat last. She is plumpiest yet she works hard. Loads of rice, tonnes of dal and a large amount of waste plates abound. The great Indian roadside lunch, over as it started, suddenly and fast.
I was standing when they arrived. I am here as they leave. They are happy and they are content. Oh, I miss my mother's food bad. Surely, I have days to spend but smile out loud. Mother's food is waiting and I laugh out loud.
Out come eight people tumbling, ohhh it is only food for which they are fumbling.
Music starts, the boxes comes put, a little vomit and sounds are loud. My peace has gone, the children are laughing on, adults are wary and the water gets spilled from.
Smiles turn broad, food is ready and the Great Indian roadside lunch is about to start.
They put lumps of rice and a sprinkling of dal, a pinch of pickle and some vegetables dry. The mother serves them all, just as in home and proceeds to eat last. She is plumpiest yet she works hard. Loads of rice, tonnes of dal and a large amount of waste plates abound. The great Indian roadside lunch, over as it started, suddenly and fast.
I was standing when they arrived. I am here as they leave. They are happy and they are content. Oh, I miss my mother's food bad. Surely, I have days to spend but smile out loud. Mother's food is waiting and I laugh out loud.
