India #3 of 5

the taste of India

is vague, accidental goat

a potent aftershave that chokes your throat
mouthfuls of years of jaggery but never a toothbrush
milk tea politely declined -
or taken, in shame - it
swells the throat with
confusion and
guilt

India tastes of
practised love kneaded into chappati,
soap lingering on fingers
while shovelling rice with your right hand,
the dirt stuck under your fingernails

papaya after pineapple after pomegranate
fennel seeds stuck between your teeth
deep-fried, plastic-wrapped everything

a whole potato-stuffed chilli
stuffed into your salivating mouth,
despite the heat on your forehead,
despite the heat in your stomach;
un-named and unpronounceable
treats, oddities, commodities

the putrid after-taste
of a deeply wounded culture
asphyxiated by its own identity
the hard-to-swallow-truth
of disappointment, bewilderment
and disdain