It was pouring heavily as I hurried into the house, mud clinging to my slippers.
“Wash your feet thoroughly before you step in!” Amma called from the kitchen as she heard me enter.
As I was washing, a familiar aroma caught my attention and pulled me towards the kitchen. Masala peanuts! The fragrance took me right back to that bus ride from Vijayawada to Dharanikota a few months back.
I remembered it clearly—hawkers passed by the bus windows, calling out, "Masala Palli!" and every time they did, I would glance at Amma, hoping she would buy me some. But she would smile, shake her head, and hand me the boiled peanuts she had packed from home. The aroma of those masala peanuts stayed with me since that journey.
Now, that same aroma filled our home, making my stomach rumble.
“Amma, this smells just like the masala peanuts from the bus!” I exclaimed, rushing into the kitchen, my feet still wet.
Amma smiled warmly, handing me a bowl of hot, crispy peanuts.
"How are they?" she asked, as I popped in a few.
“Super delicious!” I replied, grinning. “Maybe because they are made with love.”
Amma chuckled, as we stood together in the cosy kitchen, sharing more than just peanuts.