Shanti Bhavan

This is near Bangalore where my sister is... An amazing story of students overcoming--honestly--unimaginable odds. Here's one:

     "The mango juice tasted funny.

That's how Kusuma started her personal essay when applying to U.S. colleges this year.

Kusuma was then 3 years old. She had 2 older sisters. They lived with their mother, who was raising her 3 daughters on her own.

The family traveled from village to village in the southern Indian state of Tamil Nadu, hiding from money lenders who often threatened them with violence. "For years, I had struggled alone, desperate to feed my kids," says Kusuma's mother, Yashodha.

After a long and tiring day, her mother offered all three girls the juice. Then she drank some herself.

"My sisters and I happily gulped it down, ignoring the tingling sensation on our tongues," Kusuma wrote. "I remember my mother was crying, and after we finished our juice, she gave each of us a kiss and told us to go to bed. I woke up in a hospital bed with a tube in my throat. Later, I learned my mother had laced the mango juice with pesticide in an attempt to take our lives and her own."

discord

for I serenaded the sun today

my mouth a tunnel

                       didn't think of Kapernick's knee

                      then Chauvin's knee

                                                 

for the wind refuses to be silent

as it flicks its tail

                        can't think of Kapernick's knee

                    then Chauvin's knee

         for the war becomes metaphor 

                            only when revolution is near

                             don't think of Kapernick's knee

                    then Chauvin's knee

         for this is a poem that kills poets 

        --whose ghosts live forever 

                            for it thinks of Kapernick's knee

                    then Chauvin's knee

                            

________________________________________

Pic: sunrise and tea on "fall-back" Sunday. 

I wore my hair in a braid and was clearly trying to juggle other strands here as well.

back story

ripples eddy me round like

an island, like a knot

greedy with fear

in this drift of a year I may
examine one reed then

inherit a whole river

I will no longer burn into 

everything--it holds me

back, turning

into the story of one bird

perched on my hand

forever telling me

I am here--yes, I am here

have been for so long

always singing 

And... Diwali!

With my beautiful, brilliant babies. (Huck is in that first picture too... somewhere!)

We had dinner after pooja, lingering at the table forever, and then we took a starlight walk to help Nu put the chickies to bed. 

I made a payasam (with oats, raisins, coconut, and almonds) that was delicious... but also the laziest sweet one can make (it took ten minutes from start to finish). It has, after all, been a long week. 😇

(Did Diwali go mainstream this year somehow? We received a record number of Diwali greetings from non-Indian friends this year...)

honors

A lovely and successful honorary induction and such a thrill to celebrate in person with a community of like-minded book nerds again. 

Lots of pictures with students and their families for my imminent Goodbye Mr. Chips years, and lots of ziplock bags so students could take the extra hors d'oeuvres with them.

But it leaves me with less than ten hours to commute home and get back to campus for my 8 am meeting in the morning... zzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Diwali*

* I said a couple of hurried slokas, but we're celebrating on Friday 

as today we have parent-teacher conferences for Nu all evening...

and tomorrow I'll be home late as honorary inductions will run late into the evening...  

but At will stop by on Friday and we'll celebrate together then!!

poor babies

My poor baby Scoutie.

(And poor At too--the DSA candidate he'd campaigned for lost by just 190 votes.)

in unknowing

-------------------------

some beginnings rush to broadcast

they rise up

in the way fear always sees love

and uses it up

although none of us is too empty for life

I hear

this tree saying: I'm only just a seed 

 hold me

a breath sighing: I want to be born 

end me

---------------------------

Pic: Nu as we set off down the driveway. All my outside time with Nu these days is in the dark--whether they are walks to the school bus or (here) getting ready to put the chickens to bed.

underneath it all

I know the gossip well enough

so as I fall asleep 

I know

every body could be these bodies

so... easy and insignificant

in their yearning

always welcome under blankets 

with whatever remains 

of love 

their kindness like the glance of 

streetlights in my childhood 

bedroom

where some other child might lie awake

amazed at how they cannot 

fall asleep

tight/rope

I like how fear shapes itself
the moment before thought 
startling inching shaking
me alive

In the throb of this time
so borderless and so big
bruising every impulse 
to be here

rally

I started the day feeling less than 100%, but by the time I got to put on this electric blue wig in the evening, I was amped. 

Here I am waiting for Big A to give me a ride to the g/f's halloween party tonight. 

(I'm supposed to be a butterfly... a social butterfly. Ha.)