Basil seeds black in our kitchen,
Their close aura is the aura of mellowing,
And my mother, entering the room softly,
Takes a seat at the table, takes up the task
Of expunging the extra dust away,
Even half ripened ones are sundered gingerly.
She makes sure to prepare the seven glasses of water of basil seed
For this, I am grateful. I explain, this task
Would love to save everything like,
Regulating blood sugar, building strong bones, relieving stress, cooling the body, etc. She smiles at me
As the basil seeds at the touch of water begin to swell,
With a translucent white film coating each black seed,
They become twice their size.
What can I do? I ask finally. Nothing she says, let me finish my glass at the nigh time of Iftaar.
