With me, a steel small round lunch box
A precious keepsake, memento, whatever
Smelling my mother’s food whenever see
It reminds three soft idlis and dry chutney
Thick three small dosas and onion paste
Two chappatis with tomato or dal fry
Rice mixed with curd and vegetables fried
Each day any one set she packed with care
Not to leak out and at noon to get flavour
No other vessel with lid or canister she had
To keep the food safe along with the books
The box and me went to school many years
As if it was the main course of my syllabus
Yes, it was the source learned the senses
Decades passed yet I kept it as a reminder
To my mother’s love, packed for my hunger!