An Identity in Tendrils by Shadia Heenan Nilforoush


.
Chota Bhai, my baby brother

His skin is four shades – possibly seven – darker than mine.

The elders call me “Shaitan Pathan,” like the pale tribes of northern Pakistan.

But why am I the little devil, I’d ask with a curious tone?

Spy eyes peek behind opaque curtains to reveal an anomaly. My identity swirls in tendrils of no sense and textured lines pointing east and west.

Mama doesn’t feel like home. But what is home, I wonder with tired bones?

I tried to drink up the sun in hopes that the sun would bring me home. They told me I was lucky and did not need bleaching.

Abu told me I was brown. Mama told me I was white.

Why do they always want to tell you who you are, when you are still becoming?

“ackr bakre bambe boo, asse navi, poori so, so milaga, taga, chor nikul ke bhaga, am, jam, ne, pool.”

I am one, made up of two, dripped under three, and a complex formula of

A + B = Y2. It makes no sense. There is no answer. (Trick question.)

Five deep breaths.

(audible breath)

4.

(audible breath)

  1. It is unfolding.

(audible breath)

2.

(audible breath)

(audible breath)

I am here.

“ackr bakre bambe boo, asse navi, poori so, so milaga, taga, chor nikul ke bhaga!”

Nothing in-between and in silence you can hear God,

 

“ackr bakre bambe boo, asse navi, poori so, so milaga, taga, chor nikul ke bhaga!”

God

Beneath

Flesh

Blood

Bones

My curls have nothing to divulge.

Stop asking me who I am and where I am from.

 

“ackr bakre bambe boo, asse navi, poori so, so milaga, taga, chor nikul ke bhaga!”

 

Let me tell you about feelings and shape shifting clouds.

 Let me sing you songs of surrender.

 

“ackr bakre bambe boo, asse navi, poori so, so milaga, taga, chor nikul ke bhaga!

…Am, jam, ne, pool”

(audible breath)..

Photograph by Luke Seward
All audio, text and images are under copyright © Neelum Films LLC


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