along the line of the blender's blade
salt, tomato juice, vodka,
like frothing blood
I mix the burning green chilly,
just like in love
one needs a dash of poisonous doubt
and still the guests flow
congregate into groups, some
alone, some with the other
and the children
gushing energy around the mothers
keep them busy - when
do they think of love?
i wonder where
love may live
in this multitude
rashid khan's bageshri
glides from the speakers
each note like a ballet step -
"ek to bairan mori saas nanadia
kaise ke kar awoon tumhare paas"
(with your family already against me
with the whole village whispering about us
how can i come to you?)
whirrr
the crack of ice
as it meets the blender
blood swirls in our veins,
seeking love, madness,
alcohol. we congregate
in clumps, exchanging souls
over a glass
why is it that
the thumri never sings
an ode to a husband, always
the thief who comes
at night
why is it that civilization
wants only marriage
and children
and asks not if
you have loved
but who am i
a mere cocktail maker
i rim the glasses with salt
and blend my thoughts
into the chatter
"yes, sudipto,
how about a glass
of my trademark
bloody poison mary?"
amit mukerjee
june 2006
albany, ny