#248: A couple of lovely things ๐
Memories on a Plate updates + Evocative poems + Curious finds from the Internet
Hello!
I took a break last week because I was on a detox with my mother, and going on walks under the most gorgeous rain trees, chasing peacocks and squirrels as my gut healed from within.
Returning to the laptop has been a slow and cautious process, and Iโm trying to ensure there isnโt excess stimulation happening. Letโs see how that goes. ๐ค
Memories on a Plate Updates
For those who donโt know, Iโve been working on Memories on a Plate, an upcoming culinary anthology curated by The Alipore Post and Nivaala that explores the intricate threads of food, memory, and nostalgia. The 200+ page book features personal anecdotes, memories, recipes, art, poetry and photo essays from 100 Indian kitchens around the globe.
As we reach the final 10 days of our pre-order campaign (it closes on 30th September), some updates from our side:
The link to pre-order the book is now www.nivaala.co/products/memories-on-a-plate-issue-nostalgia (We were facing some payment gateway issues ๐)
We recently launched Voice Notes from the Kitchen, a collection of intimate audio memories that complement the print anthology.ย Each audio memory has been recorded by the contributor, and added as QR codes in the book. A continuation of the oral traditions around food and storytelling.
Weโve crossed 200+ pre-orders and would love your support to help us reach more people to reach our 500 copy self-published print run.
We got featured in The Hindu. Thank you Nidhi Adlakha for telling our story!
Poetry Corner
A mix bag of poems that spoke to me.
Everything is beautiful and I am so sad.
This is how the heart makes a duet of
wonder and grief. The light spraying
through the lace of the fern is as delicate
as the fibers of memory forming their web
around the knot in my throat. The breeze
makes the birds move from branch to branch
as this ache makes me look for those Iโve lost
in the next room, in the next song, in the laugh
of the next stranger. In the very center, under
it all, what we have that no one can take
away and all that weโve lost face each other.
It is there that Iโm adrift, feeling punctured
by a holiness that exists inside everything.
I am so sad and everything is beautiful.
If I must worry about how
I will live in my old age
without wealth
I would be without health now
and how can I live to be
old?
If I must worry about how
I will live in my old age
without love
I would be without dreams now
and how can I go on living
another day?
Allow me to sit in the sun
and listen to the sky.
I will love you gently.
ย
Allow me to stay in my room
and weave my rainbows.
I will love you truly.
Like a colt in the meadow
with no boundary
allow me
to wander around
till I hear the autumn
stealthily
strolling by my door.
I will be waiting
to be with you
then.
3. Missing by Anne Scott (This reminded me of Ma)
Iโve hunted near, Iโve hunted far
I even looked inside my car.
Iโve lost my glasses, Iโm in need,
To have them now so I can read.
I loudly swear and I curse
Did I leave them in my purse?
Are they behind the sofa, under the bed?
Oh there they areโon my head!
4. Love Poem for What It Is by Rebecca Hazelton
There's nothing in the world that loves you
more than the space you already take up.
There's nothing in the world that won't
forget you faster than you forgot
the last person that stepped out from your life.
When the cat reaches up
one needled paw to drag down a book
from your desk, then another,
that's not loveโthat's dominance.
When you reach up your hand and try to wheedle
someone else's to hold it, that's love
dominating you. There's no word for loving more
than you should, just the feeling of excess,
as if your tongue burst in a rash of red sequins,
as if everyone can see your stutter in the air,
staccato love you, love you, and nothing in the world
standing in that space to receive it.
There is the sudden silence of the crowd
above a player not moving on the field,
and the silence of the orchid.
The silence of the falling vase
before it strikes the ๏ฌoor,
the silence of the belt when it is not striking the child.
The stillness of the cup and the water in it,
the silence of the moon
and the quiet of the day far from the roar of the sun.
The silence when I hold you to my chest,
the silence of the window above us,
and the silence when you rise and turn away.
And there is the silence of this morning
which I have broken with my pen,
a silence that had piled up all night
like snow falling in the darkness of the houseโ
the silence before I wrote a word
and the poorer silence now.
Links of the Week
Love Shouldn't Feel Bad (Reading Heatherโs words felt like I was reading a Dear Jasmine column)
Extra Focus by Jesse J. Anderson (Currently reading this gem by Jesse, who has helped me embrace and support my ADHD brain in so many ways.)
Parting words
โMay we stay rooted to why even our smallest of tasks matter โ to how they weave us into one another when the world wants us to feel separate, apart, alone โ to how they keep us moving forward, even when everything around us seems to be falling. May we notice the fire escapes set out for us by others when we find them, and may we gather there, huddled together, saying whatโs real.โ
-Fire Escapes, Lisa Olivera
Thank you for hanging out with me on this newsletter, dear reader. Do consider pre-ordering the book. Would mean so much to me!
Hugs and coffee,
Rohini