Khalil knew it was a lost cause. His hands were handcuffed and his cheeks swollen. The authorities thought he wasn't going to make any comment and slapped him twice for one. He had to say something. 

"Say you are sorry. For marrying a Hindu girl from India. I mean, India?"

"Say it!"

He wasn't sorry and he certainly wouldn't say it, either. If he could, that was.

Maya was nowhere to be seen. His wife. Her long delicate fingers.

That night in the dim lit cell, he carved words from the bark of his being. A paper and pen wasn't refused to an Afghanistani criminal.

The flame of my words may singe the boundaries

Guarding your heart, cowering in a corner

And all that will remain will be the laugh of the forgotten ash.

Maya wasn't a poet. Didn't mean she wouldn't attempt one. Messengers thronged the city of Afghanistan and despite the deep disdains masked as wonderful smiles, she would try to surprise Khalil. She knew from that moment that he'd send her poems. And her?

What did she have to give?

Stirring the hot meat soup and adding extra pepper, she inhaled deeply. It was both of their favourite.

A pungent smell clasped within the reins of spice tingled her nose.

She wrote back.

The ash you talk of will be the pepper

To the cuisines that will overwhelm your tongue.

*****

Welcome! To this book where you shall taste food through words! All Indian folks are specially invited because this has a lot of Indian theme! Specially, Keralite, because that's where I'm from, but anyway! The rest of you can join in and I'll explain the food and words, fear not, foodies!