coming down

Diwali came and went.

First, I quarrel with all that comes along with celebrating Diwali.
I hold on to my personal tradition, I make my rangoli, I have helping hands, I make something I am proud of.
There are lights, there is food and there is laughter.

I send pictures home. They don't get that my rangoli is Ravan. I am celebrating Ravan and mourning Rama's plunder. They don't get it - all they care about is that I am doing what I love half the world away. Good. This should be family love - live and let live at a distance. I couldn't do this if I lived with them.

After all that franticness, energy levels flag. I have nothing to say in class except wish it was over. I have excuses. My head hurts, it must be the weather changing. My skin itches, it must be the dryness. Self care is what all the QTPOCs are talking about. I think I'll just stay in bed.

Ahhhbu Gharaaaib. Sad-damn Hoosain. Jhoojharat.

I think I'll just stay in bed.

the chemical life

Moths flutter through our house, our kitchen and our rooms. We kill them with our hands when we can. In my room I just close my eyes and turn off the lights, hoping they go away.
Mice scurry, surprising us in our bathrooms and dropping droppings all over the kitchen and eating away my beloved paapads.
Ants swarm the kitchen counters, the knife left dripping with jam.
Bees wander into the shed, L talks to them with her mind and they leave without a sting.

The bananas sit atop the fridge, perennially yellow.

"When we die, lets hope an animal eats our corpse," says L.