June 12, 2007

Where I'm From

I am from too many bodies crammed into too little space.
I’m from the Land of Jaldi Jaldi in a Universe of Masala Chai.
From Fish curry and Mint chutney, served piping hot in the sweltering heat.

I am from my mother’s gold bangles--ornately beaded Pink saris drying on parapets.
I am from elephant rides on Juhu Beach at Christmas; sand clinging to my wet toes.
I’m fighting to stay awake at 7am mass, rehearsed responses in an unknown tongue!

I am my granddaddy’s tennis star who crushed my grandmother’s OB-to-be.
I am a pediatrician’s daughter who doesn’t want children.
I am the Sun in Her galaxy; one of many moons in his Milky Way.
I am from weekly calls on rotary phones except during power cuts to a Mother who loved me too much--a nightly prayer for my future spouse ever since I can remember--In a world where a daughter is your guest till she is married into her forever home.

I am from singing in the monsoon and dancing in the shower.
I'm putting garam masala on my American Chop Suey
Watching--on mute--the censored version of Dirty Dancing
With my American cousin on a Colour TV sans closed captioning.
The same cousin who got knocked up at 16 and was ostracized from My Family.

I am from Keep Your Legs Crossed and Your Eyes Down.
From a world of Don’t Ask Questions and Because I Said So's
Mixed in a thermos of collectivism; blended in a pot of pacifism
Garnished with equal parts filial piety and family honor
In a stainless steel cup with my initials etched on the side.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

this is a great entry.

Anonymous said...

Uh'mmm, it's a bit too serious for me. Sometimes there can be a surfeit of meaning.

I tend towards an existential and nihilistic stance, myself. For instance, as Vonnegut liked to say, we come from brief and bizarre bumping of loins and a few drops of fluids commingling in a shallow pith.

In my view, we may as well say we come from some humidity curling the edge of a Wheaties cereal boxtop. Or a piece of plastic foot broken off the edge of a half-inch army figure. When it comes right down to it, everything is a story you tell yourself to make sense of things. But is the story right?

As Marcus Aurelius sez, every man is truly three men: the man the public sees, the man the Gods see, and the man seen by himself.
But are any of these vantage points really trustworthy?


Anyway, I'd rather hear more about Desi sex lives. This blog needs way more juicy gossip.

Anonymous said...

i also think this is a great entry.