In lieu of Scorpion King's dazzling ode to momos i decided to make one myself... A delicate white clump that rests yearning to be eaten, Wearing mask of innocence, it beckons me to come hither with its manipulative powers, The aroma it emits allows me to take reprieve from the drudgery of everyday life, How can it be called simply "momo" when nothing about it is mundane, It should be given a more appropriate name "bhagvan ko khana", Mero mutu goes "pit-a-pat-pit-a-pat" when I see the folds that have made it round and perfect, I grunt in earnest anticipation. Alas, it was a mere dream. The blandness of life permeates my soul once again, I ask mother what is for dinner..."dhaal-bhath tharkari" she replys, I wimper in the darkness. :: close curtain ::