A poem inspired by Hanif Abdurraqib’s "When We Were 13, Jeff’s Father Left The Needle Down On A Journey Record Before Leaving The House One Morning And Never Coming Back".
The door slams
No questions asked
आप कैसे हैं?
Aap kaise hain?
I love that you rattle on in Hindi with the Uber driver
Enveloping us in a melody we last heard around old family friends
Abi and I sit in the music of conversation
Witnessing home dance between front seat and back
Tomorrow I will think about what it means
For us to have renounced, too many times to count in this day,
yet another conversation
On cryptocurrencies and Silicon Valley
And to sit here once more as children in the presence of an elder
Who asks after your family, your political views and the stories you tell yourself to get by in San Francisco
How I know this
I still can’t say
Perhaps somewhere in four years of smoking up with the Desis
Confusing Hindi and Urdu
And wandering the streets of Hyderabad
I picked up on the sounds and sighs we translate only by heart
ٹھیک ہے
Thike
अच्छा जी
Achchha jee
पत्नी और बच्चे कैसे हैं
Patnee aur bachche’ kaise hain
بیوی اور بچے کیسے ہیں
Biwi aur bachay kese hen
Bhenchod!
So how comforting it is, now
To share in the silence that resounds with who you are
And maybe this is why
A single conversation with our Uber driver can coax the longing out of each of our bodies
And maybe this is why
We are reminded
Like prodigal sons and daughters who chose to return,
We are finding the part of ourselves that never left