they say that every recipe is a story

of sea routes, waterways, tongues,

songs, spoons, spaces, fire and water



I stir a pot trying to find my story

in a small sea of mutton broth

murmuring its own song to halves



of pink radishes, wild tomatoes,

cubed turnips, diced carrots

                                              the wheel of star anise seems to be

                                              summoning a spell from my mouth

                                              but all syllables are sealed, wintered



the mustard oil shines in the half-light above



revealing its amoebic blobs as tiny islands—

mysterious landscapes



floating, looking for a shore



is this how my story will form?

is this how my story will find me?



Note: Shabdegh - a mutton broth cooked with root vegetables, spices, and cilantro leaves on low heat for hours and eaten with roti or naan for dinner during winter season in India