Closing Reading for Testimonies on Paper

Yesterday’s event was the closing reading for the _Testimonies on Paper_ exhibit at the South Asia Institute. A really nice event — Dipika Mukherjee did a great job of curating it so we had a lively reading and discussion.

The only blip was my own — I hadn’t realized that one of the poems I’d planned to read wasn’t in the book I’d brought with me, and I’d pulled it up on my phone, but then when I got up to the mic, I couldn’t pull it up again — a little flustering. Oops. But it was fine — I skipped over it, went into discussion of the piece of art I was responding to, and then read “Kith and Kin,” which people seemed to like.

Best part was seeing / meeting the other poets, of course. Almost all of them were able to attend — Nina Sudhakar, Bhaswati Ghosh, Kashiana Singh, Ami Kaye — and Shikha Saklani Malaviya joined us with a video presentation. Some friends came out too — the support is much appreciated!

I now own several new chapbooks, and I have some new poetry fragments swimming around in my head. I’ve been feeling a little uninspired this summer, having a hard time settling down to summer writing. This event was a great way to start refilling the well. Thanks, everyone!

*****

Kith and Kin

hair, clothes, and kitchen
redolent with roasted spices
cooking deep into the night
with children and husband asleep

this much unchanged, untranslated

I stand over the pan, stirring
low and slow, singing to amuse
myself — haste would destroy

the spell of memory, consanguinity

coriander cumin fennel fenugreek
in order of decreasing amount
cinnamon cloves cardamom

curry leaves and chili powder

if I have to look up the ingredients
every time, am I insufficiently
authentic? eventually, I will grind

knowledge into my bones

Ammama, could you have guessed
your granddaughter would live
half a world away, would structure
love so differently, would pass your

recipes to a thousand strangers?

in the old days, recipes were hoarded
like gold bangles; a dowry locked
in your mind could not be stolen
now I give them away, scatter them

like kisses on the networked seas

I suspect it would frighten you,
what a daughter might give away
might lose forever. yet perhaps
the world is changing. a woman

may give herself away, undiminished

trust me. what the seas carried
away, they will return; your children’s
children are with you

though at times unrecognizable

bend down your head and breathe
deep, roasting scents tangled in my hair
see — you know me still. some things

come back to you, a thousandfold

*****

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *