jalukbari, 2006

faces gulal-kissed / the sun is on a break / colors spread across our skin like nothing could hurt us / my mother’s legs in the background / she loves playing the behind-the-scenes artist / even when she’s painting self-portraits / the house my sister was born in is no longer standing / years of seeing people enter & exit like inconsiderate guests / every house has a beating heart / don’t go around breaking it / the day we left, i could hear the cries for a mile / new people live there now / drowning out every agonizing sound the old house makes

jalukbari, 1991

there’s this photo of my mother smiling in a bucket hat / so skinny & frail you would think dylan wrote blowing in the wind for her / i have seen the woman walk through the eye of a tsunami like a sport she plays for fun / apologizes for crying but give her hell & she turns it into paradise in seven business days & doesn’t expect so much as a thank you in return / my mother never flew in an airplane until my sister was born / my first day of school, she held my trembling hand & i felt like i could fly / i cried so much she had to come rescue me before noon / i’m her son, after all / i learnt how to share my robab tenga with my sister every summer evening / it wasn’t always easy / but i’ve seen my mother take my father’s grief & carry it on her shoulders like her own baby / how do i carry this burden of loving her like she loves my father?