By Lee Krishnan
I am from books, clothes, loose change strewn about,
Worn jeans, scuffed shoes and schoolbags
Carelessly tossed aside.
I am from snacks and steaming hot chai
Laid out on the dining table, with the day’s mail and newspaper
Propped up against the wall and pictures
Of all our dead dogs adorning the living room walls.
I am from the rusty gate swinging wide open
On a single hinge proffering a warm welcome
To Regi House, to all who pass that way.
I am from the litter on the street beyond
The rusty gate and the posters and graffiti
Adorning the crumbling, compound wall
Providing a resting place for weary travelers outside.
I am from the small, crowded ‘bania’ shop,
The tattered notebook marking our purchases and
The bright red BEST buses on routes 70, 62 and 46.
I am from the place where the old, blind beggar
And his crippled wife beg to stay alive
Congruous with the tired,
Dusty flowerbeds that barely survive.
I am from the Pereiras and the DeSas, Leslie and Eleanor
Who had Lester and Lam and me,
From Clarissa who was called Rissa, Patricia
Who was called Pansy and Burnadette and Aloysious
Who for some reason were called Bin and Loy.
I am from Maureen and Maclean who had two daughters and
Gave them strange names like Veemal and Zoara.
I am from constant warnings to ‘Behave,
Behave yourself, remember you are a lady,
Ladies don’t climb trees and
Good girls don’t do that!’
I am from “An idle mind and hands are the devil’s workshop,
Hard work never killed anybody and Little children
Should be seen and not heard.”
I am from steaming hot chai and spicy vindaloo
Bhelpuri and Christmas pudding, sausages, sorpotel and
For some reason, potato chops.
I am from mayonnaise and Russian salad, rasam that
I always thought was soup, scrambled eggs for breakfast
And brown rice and custard pie
At all the family gatherings.
I am from crowded streets and garish storefronts,
Polluted beaches, dirty trains and
The upper decks of the ‘double-decker’ buses.
I am from the noisy hawkers usurping pavements,
The ringing bells of the church and temple and
The Azzaan echoing from the mosque at dawn
Summoning the faithful to prayer.
I am from all the dreams I dared to dream,
Every thought and every word
Spoken, written, and unborn.
I am from the songs I sang, the tears I cried,
The friends and family I took for granted,
The books I read, the trips I took, and the stories
that shaped my life.
I am from the simple, the complex, the amazing.
I am from the gift of life and love.
I am who I am.
I am Lee Krishnan.