For someone from
An orthodox family
With strong food taboos
She was strangely
Fond of eggs
In any form - -
Half-boiled, full-boiled or omelettee - -
However, none of us
Was guilty of
Forcing anything upon her
It was out of her own free will
She became a 'sinner'
Once on a visit
She asked me
What I was eating
When I told her
She wanted to taste one herself
Not before extracting
A solemn promise on my favourite deity
Not to tell her family, neighbours or friends - -
It was funny to watch her
Tucking into the moon-shaped,
Hot, brown, onion and chilli-mixed delicacy
With a gourmet's delight;
She soon became an addict
Began to visit us frequently
Sometimes with genuine reasons
Often solely for the mouth-watering dish;
After every religious 'infringement'
She washed her hands religiously
Rather liberally with my soap
Then borrowed a piece of jaggery
To mask the offensive smell
Like some seasoned secret smoker;
I do not know if she graduated
To hardcore poultry
Fell deeper into 'sin'
Earned more 'bad karma'
And slipped down the food chain
As she would have been taught to believe.
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