The dal burned

The following poem by Anamika Tamuli from Jorhat in Assam won the first prize of Fifty Thousand Rupees and book publication in Wingword Poetry Prize 2026.

i started this yesterday. or the day before.

does it matter. i don't like the smell of masala clinging to my sleep.

i meant to write about

something.

Something about anger—

The kind that rises

when the land is ploughed and my house falls apart again.

sorry i have to

soak the rice

i had to check on the fever.

I had to wipe the counter, then the floor, then my own mouth.

10:42 a.m.

Father doesn’t believe in help.

He’ll break his back before asking for it.

today he is angry

because the tomatoes went bad and I forgot the second sabzi and that i am not a doctor

and

Ma needs paracetamol.

1:17 p.m.

i think I was saying—

I am tired.

not the kind of tired sleep can fix

i dream of recipes or the timeline of english literature

i cannot find my slippers i think i didnt keep them properly father must be angry. how tightly to shut the fridge door,

how to fold grief so it looks like duty.

I read somewhere that care is political.

i must cook lunch before facebook shows another cousin

with a government job

a wedding date

5:08 p.m.

I was staring at the rain-filled pond.

The land’s been sold. battered land, half-sold and half-waiting, has become a pond. I click photos like I’m proof that something beautiful still exists

marriage

grades career

the fever hit last night.

I slept all day. i want someone to touch my forehead

I made tea for everyone.

morning

she's sick now.

I do the kitchen. She doesnt like being told what to do.

I cried while chopping garlic.

i cleaned the spew

day

I want to have an opinion

I want to talk politics outside

the kitchen

find my name in a bibliography read a novel or two

or maybe just write something whole

a full sentence a full

thought