I grew up with my heritage meticulously arranged
in a crystal snow globe
Hum Saath Saath Hain and a warm bowl of Haleem alike
Surrounded by endless fields of mango trees
Framed by the piercing of a macague-filled mountain
That gives way to carelessly paved roads of
intricately adorned lorries and fresh street-side nariyals
The quintessence of everything that’s good
Pieced together in chunks of summer vacation
Encapsulated in an orb
That glistens in the sunshine
But there’s something else in there too.
A collection of pashminas and chiffons wrapped around
A face whose forehead bows to the ground in namaaz
In remembrance of God being one
Mounted in front of a gentle night sky glowing in
The light of a delicate crescent moon
The essence of the breaths that escape
Bolstered by early mornings at Sunday school
Captured in between two palms
Raised towards the sky
This is who I am.
pieces of wanna-be snow
orbiting around the very things
That make me who I am.
And yet you force me to grasp onto it all so tightly
Out of fear that someone will come by and shatter her
Yanking street-side nariyals from collections of pashmina
Claiming that the two should have separated
A long time back
When my Nana was eight and his father knew
better than a thousand educated men
Yeh log bhi hamare log hai
That I’ve forgotten what it feels like to
walk into a room of people whose ancestors
come from the same place as mine
and not have to explain myself
To raise my hands in group prayer
at the local mosque
and hear the name of
my motherland alongside yours
I grew up with my heritage meticulously arranged
in a crystal snow globe.
It’s a shame that it confuses you so much.
But this is who I am.
Indian.
Muslim.
Indian. Muslim.
Indian Muslim.
-a khazi-syed
