Posted by: Ron DuBour | August 8, 2014

PEPPER~by Indira Sadanandan




In my childhood days
I usually accompanied my father
To his farms by running
In front of him through the ridge
Of the paddy fields, wearing a cotton
Skirt and a tiny blouse,bare footed
I could see little birds flying across
The fields to catch dragonflies.
When we reached the farm
We were welcomed by the sweet –
Smell of cashew nut fruits
Showered on the ground,under
The trees In yellow and red with a
Cashew in ash color at the edge of
Each fruit
The wind would be seesawing amidst
The branches of trees
The sun rays were rubbing the
Tree trunks sparking to make a flame.
My father showed me the spikes of
The pepper,like green pearls
Stuck to it’s stalk shone among the
Thick round green leaves on the creeper
Weaved at the trunk of trees to grow up
Bearing the yield
I could hear them talking to us about
The spirit of the morning calmness

Now when i sprinkle the pepper powder
On the omelette at dinner
I hear the resonance of those
Forgotten days I lived with my father and mother
In my family,I couldn’t get back ever my life in
I get the smell of pepper all over my body or
I feel that am the pepper.


  1. I’m glad pepper could recall such great memories for you. I remember the first time I made corn soup and how much it made me miss my grandfather. =)

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