Chingri

 

_{In my kitchen, I stare at frozen prawns}

_{From the super-market,}

_{Deveined, shelled, ready to cook}

_{‘Oh, look at the tiger prawns,’}

_{My wife exclaims,}

_{‘So fleshy, can it get any better?’}

_{My mind starts drifting,}

_{‘What will you make?’ her voice fades}

_{‘Malai, Mustard….’}

 

_{The place seems alive,}

_{The fishmongers are busy screaming}

_{Fish for the bheto bangali,}

_{While I stare at a mass of prawns,}

_{No longer frozen}

_{But teeming with life}

_{Creeping, crawling}

_{Their long whiskers}

_{Like antennae, probing the world}

 

_{I get close to the closest}

_{There is something in its eye}

_{A black disc of nothingness}

_{Can it contain the Big Bang? I wonder}

_{It seems to stare at me}

_{Until the fishmonger swiftly picks it up}

_{And places its future}

_{In a black plastic bag}

_{A tiny galaxy at Kasba market}

 

_{I stare at the Teflon coated frying pan}

_{It looks like the black eye}

_{Of the innocent prawn,}

_{‘So fleshy, can it get any better?’}

_{My wife exclaims,}

_{‘What will you make?}

_{‘Malai, Mustard….’}

_{I feel the cold frozen prawns}

_{In a white, smartly labelled zip-lock bag…}