You will need:
1 tablespoon sunflower oil
1 teaspoon mustard seeds
1 teaspoon carom seeds
1 onion, finely sliced
3 cloves of garlic, muddled
Coriander leaves, finely chopped
1 cup Greek yoghurt
Heat oil in a pan.
Splutter mustard and carom seeds.
Add onions and garlic and fry till they become slightly brown.
Add coriander leaves and fry them.
Add salt, turmeric powder and chilli powder.
Keep the flame low and let it simmer for a while, finally add the yoghurt.
Cook on low flame for two minutes.
Serve over a warm bed of rice and warm your face in the steam.
It is too cold for everything
It is too cold to go out and play in the streets
It is too cold to bring out the jump rope
The earth is hard with frost
The cold will bite through the skin
Toes will freeze in the crocs
The cold seeps into the layers we wear
We blow steams into the air
“Look, I’m smoking a pipe,” giggles the twelve-year-old
You can hear the cold in her lungs
Wheezes between laughters
Red cheeks and broken lips
“CHAMPA”, a voice calls out
Champa runs inside the house
“Mamu* made sollar today,” Champa calls behind her,
The kitchen is rich with the smell of sollar
Toasted garlic, carom, mustard
The slight rancidity of yoghurt
Curdled in the wooden pot tucked beneath the shadows
“Wash your hands,” mamu tells Champa
The water is ice
Champa wets the tips of her fingers
Climbs on top of the dinner chair, her hands folded between her legs.
Grandmother has her cotton stack out
Rolling and pulling them between her fingers into wicks
She has a pile next to her already
Surely, for the evening prayers
Where the lot of them will be dipped into ghee and burned on the altar
Champa likes to cup her hands around the flame
When no one is looking
Cupping her palms close just a little shy from a singe
The flame burns bright yellow and orange
The colour of sollar.
If yellow had a flavour
It would be warm and cold
Like teeth on metal
Like tongue on hot milk
Yellow tastes cold, and it will chase it away
Happiness and sunshine
In a town grey with 20 degrees of frost
A bed of rice and yellowed buttermilk
You will need:
A town shrouded in fog and smoke
A day when the cold seeps through the cracks and crevices
An interruption in ritual play
A morning of prayer and bells
A hand of dice in your favour.
*Mamu is Nepali for mother; most commonly used by children.
English (US) ·