The Dish

Weathering the raging storm

He staggered towards a shack

At the end of the forest,

After a torturous walk too long.

The shack’s resident, an old woman

Opened the shack’s door to let him in.

To the stranger drenched to the bone,

She gave him her rags to put on.

After drying his wet clothes by the stove,

She offered him supper of a dish

She for herself had made.

Visitor had the food she offered

To assuage his pangs of hunger.

To him, the dish simply tasted divine.

Outside the shack, he spent the night,

He woke up and left for his destination

Before the sun could rise and shine.

One fine day, the woman had a visitor

A messenger from the weary traveler.

He had invited her to his abode;

To cook the dish he had adored.

Old woman accepted his request;

And visited his house as his guest.

On arriving at the house of the traveler

She was amazed by its palatial splendour.

She entered the royal kitchen in all humility;

To keep her promise without the usual ditty

She carefully cooked the dish for the royalty;

And served it to him in all simplicity

Recalling the scrumptious taste of the dish

His Highness picked and ate a large morsel of it;

Only to wince at the very bite

And asked the old woman,

“Why doesn’t it taste as good as it did that night?”

The woman, in all humility, bowed;

While accepting the King’s grouse.

To the king, she then sullenly replied:

“Your Highness, hunger is the best sauce

That makes millet bread with chutney of grass

Taste divinely delicious to a hungry mouth….”