on orlando

it is a serious thing
just to be alive
on this fresh morning
in this broken world.
–- mary oliver

four years ago, i was in india again. lying on the floor of my cousin’s apartment. saw headlines about newtown.

yesterday. in india. lying on a mattress in my apartment. headlines about orlando.

again, again, again.

i feel so powerless from here, so surreal & disconnected — but i have felt that way after each & every shooting. as common as they have become. how has this become our reality? struggling with the need to acknowledge and also the need to grieve quietly, in my own way.

i too am a queer brown woman. i too stand with pride & love & grief.

again, again, again.

 

(many thanks to the mindful midwife for the mary oliver quotation)

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mumbai is hot

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it is three days before the monsoons start. i am pouring sweat by the time i reach the ground floor of our apartment building, which seems to be not quite fully constructed. i’m on my fourth liter of water today and my lungs still feel coated in haze & dust.

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k & i found a grocery store in a blissfully air conditioned mall yesterday and returned home for a triumphant meal of stir-fried veggies and a patila of dal. tonight it’s too hot for real food, though, and sometimes a banana & nutella tastes better than anything else. sometimes the first few days of a new job & apartment searching & new neighborhoods & tongues tripping over languages are scattered & overwhelming & unsettled, but the bananas are still the sweetest they’ve ever been.

and yet!

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i made it to india. i’m here.