The Taste of Opression

Peculiar, how the very first thing
ruthlessly storming my brain
was how each and every thing tasted;
which we ever ate together.

I had to think of how you talked about food;
how you laughed with tears in your eyes, enjoying the hot jalapeños,
how you cheated while cooking, mixing or substituting ingrediants
... or for instance how we had nothing but a samowar for boiling potatoes and eggs,
which then happened to explode and give us one hell of a cleaning job to do.

Is it not strange how I keep remembering shared joy concerning food
now that you refrain from taking any?
Almost sounds like the cruelest of pranks
which fate plays on me,
to be reminded of not only how much you are missed
but also how we miss eating with you;
Right from the moment I heard you were on Hunger Strike for most trivial of your human rights.