In an eastern european airport, my father leaves me with no return ticket / in the plane, a violinist plays a medley so sharp the glasses chatter like old teeth / i am trying to resurrect relatives i never had / i want to move forward but the blood keeps pulling me back / to the mint leaves of my nani’s house / to the open brick staircase, to the crumbling house my mother’s brother lost to a scam / because we like to think we can raze our past to dust / (makes it easier to carry) / but then why / can i still feel my nana’s beard on my fingertips? / sometimes i find a strand of gray hair on my head / and see my nani’s smile / her little room on the second floor / where she died with a bucket to keep her company / and how alive, and full i am / of blood and zeal / a body that is not drowning itself with the fluids of its own creation / like a mountain stepping aside for a mighty river / but how i am floating to another land, another continent, another climat / could not breathe in the mumbai local because the sweat on his neck / felt less like indian summer and more like resin, sticky indian summer / not letting me go, me, not letting go / with no favourite city, no permanent address but an empty home in delhi / my bones so hollow and i as sickly as those i descended from / long gone, gone long / nothing but the architecture of memory / nostalgia letting me stand on my feet / colouring every moment that i was not in / with my presence, with my warmth / i am with you, nani / i don’t want to die / alone / i will not let you die / i did not let you die / alone / i was too young to be allowed to come to your funeral / i was left behind / i remember how swollen my mum’s eyes were / like deep brown berries in the sockets of her face / i wanted to pluck them with my little fingers / pull the plug on a comatose body / to make it less afraid of feeling lost / in such a zealous world /
