A poem by Priyal Panchal

Rasoighar

A heavy thud inside
Brings one outside,
Slapping the door closed
Here, even the cabinet understands 
worries and woes, 
it doesn’t retaliate in revolt

A sizzle and red hot lovemark
On the skin or bones of the heart
There’s ice for it all 
In this temple of art

Sweaty palms, shivering feet, drying mouth… 
are making anxiety visible,
then sip plain water or an energy drink,
or relish some curd, sugar, jaggery or honey
speed-up or slow down yearnings, 
here bottled-up fears pour themselves humble. 

A pinch on the skin
Or a dagger within,
Forget it with a bar of chocolate 
or tea that cuddles the lips,
or a family pack of chips… 
noisily asking who ate from it! 


A jab of disappointment inside
or an itch withholding a scratch,
Under an omelet let it hatch
Or another comfort-food 
Like toasted jam-and-bread.

The agony that brings acidity, 
quell with ENO, burping out EGO 
add little drops from lemon of empathy, 
squeeeeeeeeeezing out the                             ‘self’ 
then turn to positive musings…  
sweets, desserts, varied sweetlings.

Hungry or hangry, 
whatever the situation… 
here there’s always a solution, 
a cup can spoon you, comforting with delight,
or aromas and tastes of spices can tantalize
or a saucepan echoing your heart’s minced squares
yells bliss as it all simmers with other diced pieces.

When the hurt is heavy,
And emotions are boiling eagerly…
You need strainers or lids 
or a pestle to pound it.
Here there’s an army of tools 
to help you pull through. 

Rasoighar is the kingdom of stardom 
where anyone can play God,
giving life to a new creation. 
It doesn’t ask your gender, 
or age, name or proficiency,
here anyone can be at ease 
Yuhi thodi pooch ti hai saari duniya…
Ki ‘Rasode mein kaun tha?’

A poet cannot capture even in verse, 
the magnificence of this space, 
but it surely is preserved 
in a well-made and truly relished dish. 

This room teaches the art of leaving,
Kitchen is the place to be in
Go nowhere else in search of new worlds, 
It holds in itself a uni-verse.
Dr. Priyal Panchal an Indian poet with her doctoral research in the area of poetry. 
She won the first prize for her pattern poem at the TATA Lit Live fest in 2015.
She has worked as a lecturer, instructional writer, curriculum developer, and as a 
freelance copywriter. She is currently journeying across the crossroads of life with 
poetry by her side and believes that poetry was, 
is, and shall always be her destination.