I drive through the streets
still dark from the night
lights shining like
jewels on a strand for
endless miles. The radio
whelps a number too
plaintive to hear. Today
I have ears for nothing.
I walk the downtown streets
like a visitor in the city
I have lived in for a year,
Unfamiliar, disoriented but
oddly alert like a sleepwalker
in a caffeine haze.
The regulars stare at me
as I grab a quick McDonald
bite. Across from my park
bench, the sleeping
tramp gets a trooper's prod.
I sit waiting, watch the sun
gently rising upon the
courthouse building.
Today some names link
theirs to mine in a dense
karmic tangle. Craig,
Steve Dana and Pallavi.
On the eighteenth day of
October they together
set me free..one golden
word is spoken
"Granted"
An expat desi friend and I were discussing what it means to return to India when you have cobbled together a life in a foreign country no matter how flawed and imperfect. We have both spent over a decade outside India and have kids who were born abroad and have spent very little time back home. Returning "home" is something a lot of new immigrants like L and myself think about. We want very much for that to be an option because a full assimilation into our country of domicile is likely never going to happen. L has visited India more often than I have and has a much better pulse on what's going on there. For me the strongest drag force working against my desire to return home is my experience of life as a woman in India. I neither want to live that suffocatingly sheltered existence myself nor subject J to it. The freedom, independence and safety I have had in here in suburban America was not even something I knew I could expect to have in India. I never knew what it felt t...
Comments
God bless you all with happy holidays.
SriPriya
http://www.asianwomensafety.net