Food and Beverage: “Divination” by Devi Sastry

Divination

When my Ajji feeds you
a piece of goat liver, hold it there,
between your perfect teeth,
before its soft meat melts.
This is a sliver of her heart
beating byadgi chilli-red. 
Let her see this — only then,
slyly salvage its iron taste
for the prized edge of your plate.
In a moment, she’ll spy it there and laugh.
To every lifted lid, ladle held
in your direction, say honu,
say chot chhe, and when you must, bas bas.
Don’t be alarmed when the raso
soaks through your roti —
it’s the only way to make
space for all you will be served.

After lunch, let Ajji read the language
of your palm, chart your past
under haldi stains, your calluses
like cataracts. Maybe she’ll tell the tale
of what my palm displayed,
years ago — the lines say that you
will fall in love with a foreigner.
Swallow this truth whole.
I took it with a pinch
of salt when I was smaller —
when I thought I could fit
the world in my fist. And she was right,
but no faint line foretold
just what fate was cooking up:
each of us warm and softening,
two pieces in the pot.

About Devi Sastry

Devi Sastry (she/her) is a writer, teacher, and editor from Bengaluru. Her life and her work revolve around food, family, and multilingualism. She holds an MFA in poetry from New York University. Her poems have been published or are forthcoming in Poetry Northwest, the lickety~split, Bengaluru Review, Koukash Review, and Mag 20/20, among other publications.