I guess, I have biscuits on my mind lately 🙂 Here is a little inspired poem about that biscuit, which has found love over generations…

…..

Parle G

When you prodded me to try dipping

Parle G’s in the warm glass of milk

and relish the soggy biscuit ,

I realised I was savouring what used to be you years ago.

 

Your Mother mixed warm milk

in those biscuits and mashed

them together in a cereal bowl

feeding you mush and humble dreams for breakfast.

But you were sharp-

you noticed the girl who gazed from the paper wrapping

– whose hair were short , unlike yours-

which were tightly tied in two side long pigtails

– like life itself.

All of 7,

did you aspire for her wonder or her freedom?

One day you decided to chase both.

Defiance was easy

– it simply meant packing bags,

swearing never to comeback

and slamming the door!

At 17 it all seemed so easy,

you stayed hungry

and brave

and smart

but always broke …despite the scholarship.

It was water and those biscuits for dinner

college crap for lunch

and her prayers that kept

you safe.

The only place that held trees

was the Grave Yard,

your favourite haunt in the soulless city

that was so far removed from the little town of your youth.

Ten years on and still there was so much to prove

and so much to punish her for-

with your absence.

There was no love lost.

And yet you found love

lingering near a Cedar

one morning,

when father discretely placed

flowers and that small packet of biscuits

on his mothers gravestone.

Your curiosity was aroused.

You asked him out for Tea.

And the rest was history.

Still , many more moons were to pass

till that first day of Spring

that brought a call which finally thawed

the frozen silences of twenty years.

You- her only blood

& the only one who could save her

with yours – drove 500 miles

to do so , with me in tow,

in the back seat of your car

and a boot full of regrets.

She was only waiting to open

her eyes and see you

sitting next to her

which you did all night

sobbing as I –

all of 7 slept

on a couch in her hospital

room.

The nurse brought you a

a warm glass of milk

and a packet of Parle G’s

which you instantly ripped apart

and mashed them in the glass

just like she did – un hesitatingly

and fed her love that finally found

its way home .

—-

Picture : Shutterstock

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