the tongue a knife probing
our mom didn't tell this story
till she was safe home again
how traveling to Chennai
in the rains--she said--they
the cleft palate of memory
couldn't tell which was river
which was road... and then
went skidding into a ditch...
thanks to the gods--she said--
the smile tucked up in secret
thanks to all the gods some
villagers were passing and
they were kind and pushed
our car back onto the road
the lips nudged into detail
then softly: but... they said
some mean things in Tamil
like uncle is a terrible driver
who shouldn't have a big car
the gummy words murderous
even more softly: aunty and I
were in the car, so they said
look at those fatty gundechis
just sitting on their bottoms
the mouthful of arguments
But I still told uncle we should
reward them, give some... thing?
But he said no, that wasn't fine
they might ask for more next time
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I know the generosity of Tamil people well. When I was pregnant with At, people would keep offering me food even if all they themselves were eating was a paper cone of sundal or peanuts. I am beyond horrified-ashamed-saddened that my family didn't offer anything--payment/a ride/money for coffee-tiffin to the people who may have saved their lives in the middle of a cyclone. (The cheeky, irreverent humor checks out too.)
2 comments:
Love this
Thank you so much!!
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