What else but a samosa
To warm a mind that is in a land of sands and the Mecca
He yearns for the gentle waft
The smell the way it makes his mouth water
A roadside vendor at Mumbai
Will always far outdo when one is presented
With a so called Arabian Samosa
He craves for the Mumbaiya
But his wait is at best long, not longer though
For he would return in a matter of months
Some have never tasted either
Neither the original nor the so called
Only those who have and then haven't for a while
Can truly know
The way it makes one heart glow
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