Feast Feed me nihari: spice and salan, sprinkled with dhanya, lahsan, and the crunch of brown onions. Feed me jalebi, fresh out of oil, lick syrup off my fingers. Feed me your voice, tell me about your morning jog, about the leaves as they turned from green to yellow, the way the wind whistled past. Fill me with art, doodles scribbled between margins, in the crevices between your fingers. Give me your warmth, gentle kisses upon my lips. Soft, honeyed, rosy, a box of gulab jaman.
© Manahil Bandukwala