Sahru Apa


Noni, fragrant 
in all her hustle and all her bustle; 
an epitome of organization and practicality, 
emanating from every pore, a familiar warmth 

this sense of care, 
I find in each one of my aunts: 
Kakka, Apijaan, Bajjo, Phupijani, Noni 
watching out, possessive, full of love 

I am leaving today, 
these small-town wonders 
atop one, giant bed, fast asleep four adults and a child; 
privacy made fun of, as ‘white people’ drama 
you know, of where I, now come from

another fork in the road, this independent attempt 
to find the India in myself; all that hunger, pent up
lime and lemony, thunder-tasting

Chamakya
my twelve year old bundle of sweetness
and of her skin tone... conscious, very
dark brown and smooth as silk
fair and lovely everyday

as I lay next to her, wanting to hold on
to as much as possible; heaved upon mine, 
the peppery scent, of her small frame 

sweat, simmer, and shampoo
cosy, and just as content: 
the silence of it all 

Sahru Apa


—from the archives ('07); except that, I look no more.

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