The Fish Curry Poem by Sofiul Azam

At the family reunion feast in Granny's house,
I ate with my hand, rather than beat
the knife & the fork on the ceramic plate.

I felt my mouth watering at the sight
of appetizing local items displayed on the table,
including digestive curd. I relished boiled rice

along with paste-items of boiled vegetables,
mainly the curry of hilsha fish cooked with pressed
mustard and spices. Separating tiny bones

from the cooked fish's flesh needs more care.
(It's local gluttons' boast: the taste of the fish curry
is beyond compare.) As a tiny fishbone got

stuck in my throat, my eyes came awash
with tears. Then I screamed like an innocent child.
My parents & Granny got scared of my plight.


from IMPASSE (2003)