A pre-dawn hour of a cold and cloudy April day.
No stirrings of life, noiseless in warm beds they stay
Cosseted and enveloped by a darkness still and somber
Oblivious to the preparations for the celebrations of the coming day.
One, quietly, silently, arises, looks around and sighs.
Then groping, feeling treading softly, she finds her way
Into the depths of the home where all ingredients lie.
She then begins to do what needs doing before the onset of the day.
Plump and fresh chickens and fish, soaked in masalas brine.
Preparations done the cooking begins on time.
Farm fresh produce, riot of colors; an assortment of many kinds.
Roasted, fried and curried – prepared for all who will later dine.
Coming together late at noon, they sit bathed in anticipation of a warm glow.
Savoring the smells, the delicious abundance cooked for them.
What better way to give welcome and thanks for the New year just ushered in?
Dals and vegetables, chicken and fish cooked in various ways.
Hands extended, held and gripped heads bowed.
Each in turn they speak…
“I give thanks for the New Year just begun .”
“I give thanks for the Country we live in “
“I give thanks for the freedom we enjoy “
“I give thanks….”
“I give thanks….
”I give thanks….”
Shubho Noboborsho