More or less an anomaly, the impressions left from sautéing onions, mixed with ginger, garlic, teaspoons of red chilli and turmeric powder were of a different sort.

Mother’s staple ingredients had always the ability to reach my core. In the past it defined me, initiating from without rather than within. The resilient spices bequeathed an aroma penetrating every nook and cranny, latching on to hairs, fabrics, deep down to ones conscious perception, and in a brown skinned boys white world, the last thing desired are his differences to be more evident.