Analyse my DNA, and you will definitely find at least a little bit of Tamarind. It is the one seasoning element most of my favourite South Indian dishes share. The Bombay street food I am almost addicted to would be meaningless without huge dollops of tamarind sauce.
I’ve grown up with memories of drying Tamarind fruits in the courtyard, cracking the shells open, and storing the fruit in huge ceramic containers. I’m guilty of surreptitiously stuffing myself with the unripe green tamarind. I’ve followed the germination cycle of tamarind seeds.
But the tamarind flower I never met till last week.
A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.
Isn't she beautiful?