Megha Sood
"We All Rise Out of Love"
My tongue twists and turns
trying to fit the cookie-cutter in a land unknown
words put in my mouth
like the small portions— those kaurs
made by the warm, supple hands of my mother
as I gently wait for the next one.
Her fingers always doused by the fragrance of bay leaves
turmeric-tainted, the various shades
as she kneads the atta and dispenses life lessons
in the kitchen on a warm summer day.
She taught me, kindness comes from the heart
but hunger pierces a man the most
so learn to soothe hunger, the lingering pain,
as she puts all her strength into kneading the atta
into a dollop of the milky moon.
My language is different than yours
I try fervently to explain to my son
who keeps correcting my pronunciation
as I teach him the basics of love
kindness and purity of heart.
​
Sometimes I wonder,
How this world
marred and demarcated by the boundaries
those twisted pronunciations,
would look beautifully kneaded together?
Like the lump of moon
sitting in the copper-clad paraat of my mother
waiting to rise out of warmth.
Legends:
kaur - morsels
paraat - a utensil to knead flour
atta - flour
First Published in the SONKU Collective “Family Legacies,” 2020
"Validation"
I can always find my mother's eyes searching
rampantly like a lost child,
for me in an empty room,
her sun-spotted hands
a bony frail figure shrinking
by the passage of time;
seated calmly on the sun-soaked mahogany chair
perched on the verandah
rocking back and forth,
creaking with every movement
a syncopation that has
birthed many of her sumptuous recipes.
​
a chair which has paid its due
We should let it go, I mention it to her often
But favorites are always kept close to the heart
giving company to your heartbeats, she says, smiling.
My mother doesn't mind spending the good part of her day
in the kitchen, soaked in oil and sweat
her soft hands marinated and laced
with the smells and delightful aromas of the dishes
she has been cooking lovingly for decades.
The sweet amalgamation of these aromas
weave a beautiful culinary story
from the wee hours of the day
till the crimson evenings.
Every interesting conversation
births around the long pedestal dining table
a place to satiate our bellies and souls.
We are a family of foodies, we boisterously declare.
​
Her bay-infused bony taloned fingers
marinated with time carries the tradition
for generations, a heritage, we feverishly adore.
​
She looks for validation of her life
in the stretched smile of her children
and contented bellies,
skin marked with time
carrying the apricity of her love
in her warm hugs and a smile so divine.
The satiated look we give her
just before leaving the table;
gratitude in our warm eyes
locks gaze with her smile.
The electric hum of the ceiling fan
coupled with the eating of the food
is always rattled like a stone thrown
breaking the skin of the lake;
when the morsel from her hand
reaches my brother's mouth.
Her eyes lit up differently
carrying a varied shade of happiness
her festivals are infused with a
a different shade of hope when he visits.
​
Her recipe cards are arranged
in the order of his liking
and get their turns whenever
it is summoned by him.
I don't call it discrimination
it never felt like it
We are all equal shareholders of her love
her big family of four kids
She has enough for everyone, she says.
But her love only seems to be validated,
her sumptuously made dishes reach their salvation
and their sole purpose of its existence
verify in equal measures only when
they are generously eaten by him.
Published in the anthology (“Poetry on a Plate with Spicy Mango Pickle”, Authors Press)
​
​
"Gluttony"
Gluttony(Gula) - Similar to greed, but gluttony is the action of taking too much of something in being indifferent to others.
​
“Gluttony is an emotional escape, a sign that something is eating us.- Peter De Vries”
​
The incessant gulping
and swallowing down
till you are filled to the brim
and choked at the heart.
​
Mouth stuffed till you can take no more
and yet you are starving your soul.
The desire for all the delicious food
your slithering tongue demands
stuffing your body
still feeling empty in your heart.
​
The gluttony, you are filled with
starving others to death
snatching and grabbing
from the needy, soulful heart
yet you never regret it.
Gluttony, a deadly sin
makes you a devil from within.
​
Published in the anthology (“Poetry on a Plate with Spicy Mango Pickle”, Authors Press)
Now, that's a trick your mother should have taught you while growing up. Pick the ones that are almost ripe but not too ripe.
Showing the right amount of color and passion, but doesn’t taste sour after you bring it home. Sweetness has to be slowly built into the relationship. Life has to be tangy and sweet and everything in between.
Make sure it doesn't carry the old scars with it. Turning everything sour around it. We know in our hearts, we all do.
Better to separate the rotten ones from those who are about to ripen. Life offers you all kinds of waxy, fruity, hairy, filled with cuticles, and you have to pick that leave a sweet longing taste on your tongue.
The taste that stays with you for a lifetime.
The appearance doesn't matter, really, it doesn't. Sometimes, the misfits are the best picks in a market.
And every time you enter your home, tired after an endless day. A life rooted in dull chores, routines, tasks, and checklists, that make you feel like a hamster on a wheel.
You are welcomed by the sweet aroma filling the living area, filling your nostrils with the
sweetest scent that makes you almost drool looking at it.
You know that there is something you have been right about.
The age-old trick of picking up the right one among the endless heap of shiny fruits at the
market, where every seller abashedly flaunts being the best one.
And then you remember your granny as she says, bringing the smile to her almond eyes cupped
by the crow’s feet, anointing her wisdom.
Lean in with your heart, not with your eyes, and you will always end up with what you have been looking for.
"How to choose and pick the right ones?"
MORE ABOUT MEGHA SOOD
All the four poems submitted for the anthology speaks about the food , memory and the nostalgia deeply seeped in them. The poems serves as an amalgamation for poetry and food. The poem "We All Rise out of Love" stresses the power of food in breaking the superficial boundaries across the world. While the poem "How to choose and pick the right ones?" highlights the life lessons passed through generations through the simple process of picking fruits at the food market . The poem "Validation" also brings out the pain and the angst within a family member as they face discrimination at the dinner table along with the incessant love of a mother.
Megha Sood is an award-winning Asian-American author, poet, editor, and literary activist. A Literary Partner with “Life in Quarantine”, at Stanford University. Her four poetry collections include the award-winning (My Body Lives Like a Threat, FlowerSong Press, 2022), (My Body is Not an Apology, FinishingLine Press, 2021), and award-winning( Language of the Wound is Love, FlowerSong Press, 2025).
She has received support from VONA, Pen Women, Dodge Foundation, Kundiman, and Martha’s Vineyard Writing Institute. Her 900+ works have been featured in print, online journals, public exhibits, and anthologies, including the Poetry Society of New York, Ms. Magazine, World Literature Today, Mom Egg Review, The Feminist Press, NYPL, Pen Magazine by American Pen Women, PBS American Portrait, NPR, WNYC Studio, etc, and numerous universities, including Stanford University, Howard University, George Mason, CUNY, etc.
A 2020 National Level Winner for the Poetry Matters Project, Winner of the San Gabriel Poetry Festival, and a Four-Time State Level Winner for the NAMI NJ Dara Axelrod Poetry Award. She also received a “Certificate of Excellence” from Mayor Stephen Fulop, Jersey City.
Her various poems and co-edited anthology “The Medusa Project” have been sent to the moon in 2025 in collaboration with NASA. She co-edits the annual Brownstone Poets anthology and lives with her son and husband in New Jersey. Find her at https://linktr.ee/meghasood.