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Nasi Lemak

It is unity.
A sensual outburst;
fuming essences out of rain-forests,
harvesting in hungry plates,
engulfing courses drowned in taste.
Scrunched to be crunched
in knotted pandan potlis
flavourfully divine,
seams revolving in variations
blend one, with the one-eyed ova moon –
the wild aromatic nasi
paled hot by saucy spices,
evidences of the sea at its periphery.
Ikans swimming into a spoonful
the wandering remnant, burnt
with hot sambal
hardly cooled by sliced cucumber.
and yet the tongue salivates for more.
This bungkused kaleidoscope,
has pagi brunches transformed
into visions of a fulfilling malam.
Saving any remaining appetite,
for a peaceful retirement in a cozy office chair.


Rajashree Anand

Notes:
'pandan' - a palm-like, aromatic leaf used in Malay cuisine
'nasi' - rice
'ikan' - fish
'sambal' - a hot sauce made by crushing red chillies; served with rice
'bungkus' - packed for take-away
'pagi' - morning
'malam' - night

Visual Silence


A transient visitor into her sensorial world,

“Now walk,” she said.
My legs played possum to her vocal stimuli:
spoilt for visual signals, spatial comfort.
“Walk, trust me!” she said again.
The eyeballs held captive
 by my sweaty palms,
now choked in want of feeble light.
I couldn’t give up, not so soon.
“Now come on, di!” she said
and held me tight.
And then I felt.
The stagnant wind in the service lane,
vehicular breeze from the corner street.
The gravel, baked foliage
crackled, crushed under my feet.
There was poetry in madness.
I listened for traffic, vehicles, people,
almost every tiny sound that was audible.
My stoked skin-hair soaked vibrations,
My smoked eyes inhaled the tyre fumes .
I froze. I felt the missing arm. 
Where was I? Where was Jasmine?
At the crossing?
I heard the storming of horns, 
the screech of brakes.
I stood in their way!
Guessing, decoding
listening, feeling, all-in-one,
I dropped my hands in panic.
And ran to safety.
Light flooded my painful eyes,
in an explosion of colours,
 watching a blurry little Jasmine
scuttling with her stick across the pedestrian.
“No! Don’t, there’s a road!” I screamed.
Unfeeling of the withheld rebukes,
Unseeing of their nasty stares,
She crossed the road with ease.
“Didi, where did you go?” she asked.
“I don’t know, I couldn’t see!” I said
and hugged my symbiotic sister.
She congratulated,
I sighed in relief,
as we trudged our long way home.


RAJASHREE ANAND

Food Wars

The loaded jet plane missed its runway
circled past the busy base.
“…and zoom!” she said 
swallowing a silent prayer.
He was still munching- ever so slowly,
splattering her hope in delightful role play.
“ I’m parking my Lamborghini, mum!”

How long? As long as I give up?
She complained with grunts and rage
dislodged his four-wheeled pride,
found his smeared target again
and acquired it. By force.