Sitting on one side of the cold mosaic floor of the kitchen I shelled peas, the split green pods piled on the kulo – the winnowing tray. The pale yellow sweater had a hole on one arm, near my wrist, the yarn had started to come out from loops. The stem of the pods kept getting caught on it as I kept shelling, the steel bowl on my right slowly filling up with the tender peas. Old memories are like that frayed yellow sweater, hugging me with soothing warmth…
The fresh peas in the pods are a prologue to the story of an Indian winter.
Continue reading Koraishuti-r Kochuri: Peas Stuffed Fried Bread…
