Between Two Worlds: Poems on Identity and Belonging
Lemon Rice
A lunch box opened with aromatic delight,
Haldi and tadka painted memories bright.
But the smell, once warm as a meeti embrace,
Turned khatta when laughter replaced its grace.
They called it 'motorcycle gas,' with mocking surprise,
Fresh lemon, turmeric, and tadka, my dadi’s prize.
The recipe of love now a source of shame,
Turmeric tales transformed by a cruel nickname.
My pyaar for lemon rice turned cold,
To a fear of fitting in, I was sold.
How quickly a girl’s crinkled nose could kill my pride,
And the flavors of ghar I kept locked inside.
I shut the lid of my dabba, sealing its scent away,
Sometimes tossing it out to let their questions decay.
“I ate it all,” I’d tell my amma with a fake smile,
Hiding the guilt that churned in me all the while.
Her words echoed as I held back tears,
Hiding my lunch through the middle school years.
But flavors of ghar aren’t meant to hide,
Like mustard seeds, they bloom silently in desi pride.
My Two Worlds
Growing up, I always felt out of place,
Caught between two worlds I couldn't fully embrace.
In the white-washed halls, I searched for my desi roots,
Trying to blend in, but stumbling in the wrong boots.
Each side pulling me, never truly at ease,
Being both American and Indian brought me to my knees.
"Too white to be Indian, too Indian to be white,"
I carried this truth like a shadow in the light.
"Is that marker?" they asked, eyeing my mehndi-stained hands,
A beauty and ritual I cherished, they didn’t quite understand.
My bindi? A jewel of pride, a part of me to hold and defend,
"What’s that dot on your forehead?" The questions never seem to end.
Torn between worlds, a bridge I struggled to mend,
A spirit longing for where both could blend.
Yearning for balance, striving to be whole,
Conflicted between two— dho selves, ek quivering soul.
Bridging the Gap
New school, new faces in a sea of brown hues,
A melody of avaaz, like a long-awaited muse.
A chance to begin, to write a story anew,
With each hello, a fresh path I drew.
At first, the cafeteria felt like a foreign street,
Rows of tables where strangers came to eat.
But shared samosas turned strangers to friends,
A connection sparked, where laughter never ends.
Together we danced to Bollywood beats,
Laughed over masala chai and shared ghar ke treats.
In each other, we found home and a shared song,
Comfort in a place where we finally belonged.
In college, laughter echoed in many tongues,
A kaleidoscope of colors and traditions, where harmony sprung.
Through khaana and kahaani, we bridged the divide,
Finding pride where cultures collide.
No longer afraid to claim my rightful space,
I move forward now at my own pace.
I wear my jhumkas with jeans, sip chai with croissants,
And pair my bindi with sweaters, blending my worlds.
Slowly, I learned to hold both duniyas dear,
To walk two paths, seamless and clear.
The journey showed me how identities flow,
Not either-or, but dhono ek saath as a whole.
Glossary
Amma — mother
Avaaz — voice(s)
Bindi — a decorative mark worn in the middle of the forehead by Indian women
Chai — a spiced black tea beverage that's typically served hot with milk, spices typically include cinnamon, cardamom, ginger, cloves, and black peppercorn
Dabba — box or container
Desi — a term described for people and culture originating from the Indian subcontinent including India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Nepal, and Sri Lanka
Dho — two
Dhono ek Saath — both together
Ek — one
Duniya(s) — world(s)
Ghar — home/house
Haldi — turmeric
Jhumka(s) — a style of bell-shaped earring that originated in ancient India
Kahaani — story
Ke — of
Khaana — food
Khatta — sour
Meeti — sweet
Mehndi — a form of temporary skin decoration using a paste created with the henna plant
Pyaar — love
Saath — together
Samosa — pastry with a savory filling, mostly vegetables, spiced potatoes, onions, and peas
Tadka — tempering of spices