Lockdown Chef – All that greens is not mint
As the lockdown began, two wooden doors welcomed me into a territory that was quite unknown to me: the hub of spices, the battlefield of condiments where they fight over who should go first into the simmering pot— became somewhat familiar to me. In a Bollywood movie, Kabhi Khushie Kabhi Gram, there is a scene where the mother instinctively knows of the arrival of her son and she brings arti with her to welcome him home - I feel the same every time I enter the kitchen now The only difference is she knew it was her son while I constantly have to ask from hubby, Am I putting in coriander or mint?
I still can't forget his fearful eyes that dilate with pain, counting every breath through the slit of my bedroom curtain Those strong, robust hands that once moved the heavy furniture during relocation- now tremble at every second, slowly checking my temperature, waiting for me to doze off so they get a chance to assess my condition based on the heat of my thin, fragile body - he adoringly calls mine Each sweat counts Every pulse matters. Perhaps this self-professed physician will never know how the rhythm of my heartbeat produces a song only he can decipher, that the cadence of words are part of the lexicon that suggests life. Life only he can breathe into me.
Fizza Abbas is a Freelance Content Writer based in Karachi, Pakistan. She is fond of poetry and music. Her works have been published on quite a few platforms including Poetry Village and Poetry Pacific.
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