Home Service
Chaitali Chattopadhyay
When the cooking was done, the kitchen washed away fully.
Being firewood , I keep sending message,
Reiterating -" Hey! Hear me! I want food".
Different delicacies, chutney, sukto, rice and sweets..
Perhaps I give them wrong address.
They waiver from the path, take a long road to return.
They arrive as mourning and delight
When they arrive, by then
I have fallen asleep
Like a cat
Steeped in the delicious smell
Of my neighbour's kitchen.
Translated by Shyamashri Ray Karmakar
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