RED CHILLI

My grandmother recited Thiruppavai while grinding red chillies, her weathered hands moving with practiced grace. She was a Tamil poet at heart, weaving verses between kitchen tasks. The spice's heat matched her passionate words about devotion and discipline. Years later, I discovered her handwritten poems hidden in a cookbook. My mother shared them at a community gathering, earning recognition my grandmother never sought. The audience felt astounded by her flawless verses. Those chillies, exactly as she prepared them, now flavor my cooking and remembering. Through inherited recipes and recited poems, our family's love continues burning bright, binding generations together.