By Shejal Tewari
Around the Death of July
Siliguri
Sweat drips down my mother's spine
The loosely hanging shirt from a few minutes ago is no longer loose.
Spices line the shelves
Some used daily
Haldi (turmeric), raato khorsani (red chilli) and noon (salt)
And the 'in-case' ones
Bhuneko lasoon (roasted garlic), til (roasted sesame seeds) and elaichi ko chilka (cardamom shells).
She pushes her hair with the back of her hand
The front holds a daru (spatula)
If you read it in Hindi, it is funny cause it means alcohol, but it's just my mother's daru.
I call my mother mamu
Mamu, with her daru, tosses the thing that makes the whole flat stink.
At the dining table the elders exclaim,
"Gundruk ko jhol!"
Brown, wrinkled, its odour settles into all corners
On top of my closet
In my dog's breath
Within the pages of my bookshelf
Under my bed
Choking me in my sleep.
Gundruk, fermented greens
There are many ways you can eat it
One of them is by making achaar.
In that stuffy kitchen
Mamu fries gundruk with some timbur (sichuan pepper) for her daughter scheduled to leave the next day.
Secured in a ziplock bag, it is placed carefully in my handbag
The jar of dalle (fireball chilli), however, is less fortunate
Wrapped in layers of plastic, it is strapped shut in my suitcase.
"No Dalle allowed in hand baggage"
This peculiar sign stands at Bagdogra airport's security check, where thousands from Siliguri, Kurseong and Darjeeling queue.
Bangalore
"It's our very own kimchi,"
I say as I push aside the alu kopi (cauliflower and potatoes) to make some space on my roommate's plate.
To make gundruk, first wash the leaves, any greens
Now crush them to get rid of their juice
In boiling bubbling water, soak the leaves
Next, wrap them in a cloth to squeeze excess water out
Finally, leave them out in the sun to bask for 15 days or more
Until they are dried and brown.
In our communal kitchen
I share my cupboard with my roommate
Half hers, half mine.
There are four cupboards in total
Each girl shares hers with her roommate.
Ours has essential spices
Haldi (turmeric), raato khorsani (red chilli) and noon (salt)
Jeera (cumin) and garam masala (garam masala) stay in their packets, losing balance for lack of rubber bands
And the 'in-case' favourites
Ramen, wai wai, and maggi.
Weekly rotation of alu (potatoes), bhendi (okra) and simi (beans)
Dal if lucky
Jhol if lazy.
One evening after college
I saw my mother's message
A picture of a little girl, my younger self
Sucking lips in to fight another of mamu's hand-rolled rice balls
With my free hand I dug into our kitchen cabinet for a snack
Instead, I found a ziplock bag, white with fungus, from a few months ago.