Bat Soup

© 2024, Puja Goyal

_{In “Bat Soup,” written by Puja Goyal; Lily anxiously waits for her father’s return while her mother prepares a grotesque dinner of bat soup and deer head. The family sit together to dine, while the animals on the plate, half-alive comfort each other with jokes. The animals on the farm outside feel unfortunate to not being invited into the home for the party… and comfort each other that they will get their invite soon, too, if they take care of themselves and become healthy.}

“Come home Papa, and soon.” 
Lily grabbed the phone from her mother,
and held it tightly as she screamed.
Then, in an instant, letting it fall on the bed,
her mother ran to the kitchen to prepare bat soup.

At dinner, at exactly 8.
The bat lay face up in a bowl,
Sprinkled with onions, salt and pepper,
Some broth and vinegar.
Half swimming, holding itself on the rim.
Struggling to keep itself afloat.
“Swimming is for fishes” it joked.

Then next to it came a little head,
The bat remembered from the market,
Underneath his temporary home.
“It was quite stuffy there for you?”
The bat sniggered at the head which shifted –
Through garlic and onion snow.

The family gathered for their weekly ritual,
The smell of veal roasting in the oven.
The cows in the farm could hear laughter,
“I looked forward to next year’s simmer.”
they mooed to their newborns softly,
“Our time will come soon remember.”

“So, you think we are invited?”
Asked the head to the bat who searched
For his legs in the gravy.
“You think I can fix it together if I find it?”
“Of course we are invited, or else…
Why’d we be in soup?” The bat sniggered,

Still, now holding onto the rim firmly.
“I need to find my legs soon, so I can party,”
The head spoke, spitting pumpkin.
“They really stuffed me.”
“Oh, don’t worry, my new-born foal,
Your days to prance are over, I am told.”

The bat saw the host carve,
What remained of the spicy little leg,
“There your leg, you think you can fix it?”
Then the bat saw the children squeal,
He adjusted his wings in the sauna underneath.
The little girl scooped him out with sticks,
And placed him awkwardly in her bowl.

“Ah, perfect,” the bat exclaimed. 
His wings wrapped perfectly around the rim.
“My legs were numb, now rest great!
Hey, it was nice chatting with you again.”
Then, as he saw himself being taken apart,
The bat, alive in soup, saw his heavy legs.
Delicately bitten into half. 

It tasted horror in the soup and held on tight –
to the rim of the bowl as he saw the girl dine.
The humans swarmed about him while he steamed.
In a bowl full of mutton broth, garlic and spring onions.
He saw his wings slowly turning into a tasty dish.
It’s mouth open; it gasped for air.
It’s echo called to the bats, who heard him miles away.
“Sprinkle some soy into the bat’s head.” The mother said,.
The head, of course, had much less to suffer.
Wrapped in a cushion of mashed potato;
With rosemary and thyme, it became tougher.
It couldn’t see the bat enjoying its sauna.
“See you again next summer!”