When Revathi posted the theme, I first didn’t know what my comfort food was. So many different foods back home made by my mom displayed like a slideshow in my mind.
Then I realized,It is not what food it is, it is that feeling you get.I get it in when I eat food packed in a sautéed banana-leaf by my mom.
I get in when I eat it inside a train half way away from home listening to the sound of the train and trying to eat it balancing on the lap, with a book open and the wind trying to blow it all away.
I get it when I know my mom has packed three times the food I normally eat, to compensate for the long days ahead at college or work away from home. I stuff myself, wishing I was a Camel.
I get it when I lick my fingers for the last bit of it, wiping it on the newspaper that covers the leaf and throwing it away on the tracks and longingly looking at it again through the rusty window bars.
It is that special taste, none else can experience with you.


























