The panacea for all ills
was my mother’s soup.
When I was besieged by a troop of fevers raging
with a running nose and sore throat,
she made me a bowl
of spicy and sour soup with noodles
that I savored hot…and when
I lay weak with muddling body ache,
she gave me a concoction
of chicken and corn in a mug.
Stomach bugs were fought with
thick creamy mushroom delight
in a steel glass meant for my fix.
With Asterix comics I sat on bed
enjoying my broth in my private hub.
Mother would rub mustard oil
to ease the pain and I had soup to gain.
Chinese, Thai, Indian — all styles
Mother specialized in.
I loved the story of Stone Soup
and Mother, to her glory,
had her own ingredient —
red fairy shrimp in a
hot orange concoction
that convinced me of heaven.
Our staple food was fish and rice
but I loved falling ill because of soup;
and no doctor has ever tried
to convince me otherwise.
About the contributor: Jagari Mukherjee, is a gold medalist in English Literature, a Best of the Net 2018 nominee, DAAD scholar from Technical University, Dresden, Germany, a Bear River alumna. Her poems and other creative pieces have been published in different venues both in India and abroad. Her latest book, The Elegant Nobody, was published by Hawakal Publishers in January 2020. She is the winner of the Poeisis Award for Excellence in Poetry 2019, and also the recipient of Reuel International Prize For Poetry 2019.