a pakistani chicken patty with sriracha |
chicken patties
always remind me of the monsoon in pakistan. it is a memory of grey skies that
burst into heaving showers. the earth would release trapped heat, allowing it
to waft up in warm steam laced with the smell of earth. in one of the houses where
we lived, i had a monsteria plant outside my window. during the monsoon it
would grow threefold, its large waxy green leaves balancing fat raindrops. i
have a memory of a weekend, in which i am curled up on my beanbag, reading
fiction. as the breeze cooled, baba opened the doors and windows, and the house
came alive with the sound of rain. you could feel the warm air moving out on a
cooler current. reshma’s husky voice serenaded the breeze.
and soon after there
was the call for afternoon tea.