Years ago, I boarded the plane to this land,
Wearing my culture and identity around my hand.
Which I was ready to adapt, to learn and imbibe—
To flow with the river, to follow the wind vibe.
I abided by the law, learned and followed all the rules, When time permitted I volunteered in schools. Learned to cook cranberry sauce, potatoes and turkey for Thanksgiving dinner, I also helped hide the pastel eggs in spring, around the neighborhood, for Easter.
Donned a spooky, tall, velvet, witch hat when it was time for Halloweens, While I doled out loads of candy and popcorn to kids and preteens. To celebrate the spirit of Christmas season— so cheery and bright! Adorned my porch with holly and lit up my house every night.
Every day, I packed a lunch of pretzels and apple walnut salad with delight— So I don’t bother colleagues with the smell of my food and vapors of my spice. To be a small fragment of the valuable community, I opened all doors and windows of my heart and soul to blend with amity.
That time when I returned from my long flight back home— Sleep ladled in my eyes—fatigue weighing down each bone. My bags passed the X-ray with flying colors, the dogs on duty did not sniff any suspicious odors.
My shoulders began to lighten and I heaved a sigh of relief, Thankful —for passing the tedious, but essential ordeal. The guys again shuffled through my bags and pulled out a guilty glass jar, Filled with spicy mango pickle from my land afar!
They shrugged and tossed it into the greedy, gray can of trash— While I stared, somewhere inside I heard a shattering crash. Did not give me a chance, and absolutely no rhyme or reason, They destroyed what my mom nurtured all through the summer season!
She chopped the mangoes, ground and mixed the spice; let it cook in the Indian sun. Shielded it against rain and fungus for months. To pack with her daughter’s family on their return. It wasn’t opium, wasn’t a shiv, wasn’t a bomb— It was just a tiny little piece of my mom.
She called me later and asked fondly if I liked the pickle? I had to lie; I tried to chuckle as my eyelids began to trickle. “Its delectable mom, the best you made— but I have plenty, Don’t make it next year when the mango trees bear their bounty.”
Sara is an Indian, living in the USA for the past 11 years. Columbus, Ohio has been her home away from home in India. She is an IT professional, who loves to immerse and lose herself in the ocean of written word. Sara is a voracious reader who can chew words in any shape or form. She also pours her heart out through my fingers on her blog This I Believe, which is a medley of personal essays, insights, poets and short stories. Her blog has been featured on top Indian blogs lists and her poems have published in the Haiku journal. You can find Sara on her Facebook profile.
February 1, 2023March 7, 2023 3min readBy Varsha Panikar
Photo Courtesy of Varsha Panikar
“After so Long” is a poetry film created for Simha’s EP, which is streaming on Spotify, Apple Music and Amazon Music. The poem was collaboratively written by Simha, a U.S. native, and Jae, who is based in India, during the 2020 lockdown. “After so Long” was recited by Simha and their parents. In 2022, I directed and produced the film through my studio, Star Hopper. “After so Long” premiered on Nowness Asia in March 2022.
This film is a worldwide collaboration among trans and queer south-Asian artists from the United States, India and Canada. It was recorded, shot and filmed during the lockdown of 2020 and 2021.
Jae:
Awake at 10 am but out of bed at noon,
I want to be here where I lose myself in these sheets
Glancing through half-shut eyes
At the gold pressing past my window
The glimmer remarks on the ledge of my bed
But the voices are so loud
Like dust collecting in the corner of my room
I am unaware to why I’m still here
With the chilling doubt of the breeze…
I’m swept into lucidity After so long
Dad:
Mil rahi hoon mein aaj iske saang barso baad,
(Today, I’ll be meeting them after so long)
Koi paata nahi diya tune
(But with no destination sight,)
Kya karu?
(What should I do?)
Kaha jau?
(Where should I go?)
Shayad agar mein chalne lagoon,
(Perhaps, if I keep walking)
Inn yaadon ki safar mein
(Down this road of memories)
Mujhe samajh mein ayega,
(I will find out)
Yeh rasta kahaan jayega,
(Where this road leads)
Inn aari tedhi pakadandiyon pe baarte hi jaana hai,
(Through the twists and turns of this winding roads, I must keep going on)
Mujhe mil na hain aaj uske saath,
(I wish to meet them today)
Barso baad.
(After so long)
Simha:
I feel like I’m retracing my footsteps
From these concrete stretches
To broken cement walls
Chips and cracks forge their way for new designs
I see the old abandoned buildings
That once held the warmth of bodies
Now just hold memories
Supporting the nature’s resilience
In vines and moss
After so long
Mom:
Dhoondli shishe mein jaaga leli hai
(These isty mirrors have offered refuge)
Bikhri hui laatao ne,
(To these scattered vines)
Zameen pe uchi ghaas pe
(Amidst the tall grass stretching from the ground)
Lehrati kamsan kaliyaa
(The swaying little buds)
Bheeni bheeni khushboo bikhereti
(Spreading honeysuckle scent through the air)
Phir wahi mausam,
(I lose myself in reminiscing, the same season)
Wahi dil,
(The same heart)
Baarso baad.
(After so long)
Phir bhi mein chal rahi hoon aaj
(Still, I keep carrying on today)
Khudko khudse milane ke liye
(In the pursuit of my higher self)
Inn galiyo se guzarna hain aaj
(I must pass through these streets today)
Chaalte chaale jaana hai aaj
(I must keep going on today)
Kabhi hum milenge kisi mor paar
(Someday, we’ll meet again, somewhere on this road)
barso baad
(After so long)
Kabhi hum milenge kisi mor pe
(Someday, we’ll meet again, somewhere on this road)
barso baad
(After so long)
The opinions expressed by the guest writer/blogger and those providing comments are theirs alone and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of Brown Girl Magazine, Inc., or any employee thereof. Brown Girl Magazine is not responsible for the accuracy of any of the information supplied by the guest writer/bloggers. This work is the opinion of the blogger. It is not the intention of Brown Girl Magazine to malign any religion, ethnic group, club, organization, company, or individual. If you’d like to submit a guest post, please follow the guidelines we’ve set forth here.
I organize play dates for my children. They’re friendships remind me of when I was younger when Fridays were consistently set aside for my friends. Now, it seems play is indeed meant for childhood and work is for aging adults. We often can’t find time for ourselves, let alone our friends, who are busy working mothers like ourselves. Or we moved into unreachable corners of this globe, far away from any means of physical communication. It’s fair to say, it’s hard to stay close to friends like when we were in college. Nowadays, it’s easier to travel, but more difficult to bond with others. “My Friend” asserts that we should not end let our friendships fall by the wayside. Even with physical distance and conflicting schedules, we keep our friendships close with kind words on phone calls, regular FaceTime calls, or even encouraging social media comments. Friendship doesn’t end once we become adults.
The opinions expressed by the guest writer/blogger and those providing comments are theirs alone and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of Brown Girl Magazine, Inc., or any employee thereof. Brown Girl Magazine is not responsible for the accuracy of any of the information supplied by the guest writer/bloggers. This work is the opinion of the blogger. It is not the intention of Brown Girl Magazine to malign any religion, ethnic group, club, organization, company, or individual. If you’d like to submit a guest post, please follow the guidelines we’ve set forth here.
NAKED: The Honest Musings of 2 Brown Women was born in the autumn of 2018, when Mimi Mutesa and Selvi M. Bunce began sharing their poetry collections. It was scary, beautiful, and terrifying when they decided to trust each other with their most intimate thoughts. Not only did they feel relieved after doing so, but Selvi and Mimi also felt more seen as women of color. They embarked on their publication journey, so others may feel as seen as they did on that fateful autumn.
“Ingrown Hair” deals with the themes of societal and family pressures that are reflected throughout NAKED. Mimi and Selvi have always written for themselves. They see poetry as an outlet, and their poems exemplify their personal frustration and vulnerability. “Ingrown Hair” speaks to Selvi’s experience with the societal pressures of South Asian women, such as getting married, being a good wife, becoming a good mother, and leading a certain kind of life.
There is something strange beneath my skin
telling me to build a house,
make a home,
mother children.
I am not sure how to reconcile it.
My mother was strong
and a mother after all.
My philosophy has been to spend my time
on myself and the world.
I have always thought
I could simply address the thing under my skin
when it finally crawled out.
But when my family starts guessing
who will get married first, and my father
has been saving wedding money for years,
I begin to wonder
if I will have to pluck it out.
The opinions expressed by the guest writer/blogger and those providing comments are theirs alone and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of Brown Girl Magazine, Inc., or any employee thereof. Brown Girl Magazine is not responsible for the accuracy of any of the information supplied by the guest writer/bloggers. This work is the opinion of the blogger. It is not the intention of Brown Girl Magazine to malign any religion, ethnic group, club, organization, company, or individual. If you’d like to submit a guest post, please follow the guidelines we’ve set forth here.
Sara is an Indian, living in the USA for the past 11 years. Columbus, Ohio has been her home away from home in India. She is an IT professional, who loves to immerse and lose herself in the ocean of written word. Sara is a voracious reader who can chew words in any shape or form. She also pours her heart out through my fingers on her blog This I Believe, which is a medley of personal essays, insights, poets and short stories. Her blog has been featured on top Indian blogs lists and her poems have published in the Haiku journal. You can find Sara on her Facebook profile. 
