Here’s the thing. These little things surround you and keep you comfortably enveloped only to surprise you with this sudden burst of emotions you never thought they were capable of. Nasty tricky little things.
I realized their workings courtesy Kissan Jam.
I spread the jam on the slice of bread and the all too familiar fruity aroma hijacked my brain to take it down the memory lane. Holding my hand, through the school corridors where the lunch boxes used to colour a 30 minutes time duration so it could be identified by smells and flavours.
…to the parantha roll that I thought was a unique combination only to find out later that it had a wider appreciative audience. One whiff and I was home on my dining table, doing my morning ritual of filling the crossword, looking up every now and then contemplating how much jam is too much jam really…
“An awkward situation or predicament”
No.
“A sweet preserve made from fruits and sugar, breakfast staple, bearer of old memories and smells of home”
Yes.
Across, 3 letters. JAM
Ah, little things.
Deskbound Wanderer 