The heady scent of ground cinnamon, cardamom, cloves. Tej patta, coriander, pepper, and then some spices I don’t quite know the names of, but the notes fit in some place in the memory lingers, though I cut it fine this morning.
Sunday evening, at the wedding function. The father died a few months back, a heart attack, a shock for all. The mother shook off her grief, insisted life go on, and then his best friends took over, taking the function to a state of flawless execution. A crisp salute.