Harbor Review
Poetry & Art
By Avirat Bajaj.png

Naamkaran and Other Rituals

 
 

Introduction to Naamkaran and Other Rituals by Laura Lee Washburn

 

Naamkaran and Other Rituals

 

To 15th June, the sound of rain, and a single scented candle.

 

TABLE OF CONTENTS

1. kings
2. it was happening to her
3. the poet’s reflection in water
4. lucknow love poem
5. oranges
6. my school has 4.4 stars on google maps
7. int: a room in the palace
8. rumi’s promise
9. a list of things that your colleagues don’t want to know
10. i like the hat

 

kings

our colonial catholic girls school in lucknow    is determined to allow only one man in our lives    his arms are spread wide but unlike when shah rukh khan does this    none of us are in a hurry to embrace him      he has a mum   and we are often told of her immense sacrifice   and how she is a mother to us all    her porcelain statue makes me sceptical i refuse    to believe i could have come from a womb this white    we start the day by saying a prayer that does not exist    in our mother tongue    and end it by asking for mercy from a god who    would stutter when attempting to pronounce our names     we are told we must always be ladylike until    my classmates have to put on the nativity play and i see    three drag kings without ever     having stepped into a gay bar   so for the first time i mean it when i say
amen

 
 

it was happening to her

it was happening to her
fluttering body
panicked gasps
a hand trying to reach the button to call the nurse
but failing

i could only see it through a slit in my curtain
so i woke up sammy
who was hunched in an awkward chair next to my bed
i had been sure hours ago that it would happen to me

soon an echo of
a malayalee nurse
singing soothing english sentences by bed no 4
we also have parents
grandparents
we will take care of you
don’t worry don’t worry don’t worry

but none of us are robots despite the
multiple wires coming in
and out
the beeping sounds
that accompany our movements
so we worry anyway

it is dark and sammy is holding my hand
but this anxiety is giving birth to a kinship
as one of my wires is turning
into a tentacle wanting
to reach out to bed no 4

she might be an old white lady
and i might be one of the only
two brown patients in this ward but right now
as i go to sleep
i know we have something in common

  

at first it feels like another antibiotics-into-my-veins fever dream
the woman who had a panic attack last night
is waking me up– but not on purpose

 her shriveled hand is holding a phone
and she is speaking to an adult child who
she believes should have been standing by her side

there are only chinese people here
only speaking chinese
mandarin (she corrects, feeling proud of her progressiveness)

 no english people
no english people here
only chinese

i got so scared
i had a panic attack last night
did not feel like i was in england

when it is afternoon again
i request for the curtain to be shut tighter
my tentacle has long been cut off
in an attempt to count the number of chinese individuals
that were on the floor last night

maybe one? maybe not?
maybe all people of colour are called chinese in english and
i never knew till we were there in
big enough numbers
to scare someone in a way that is now medically recorded
on their file

the other brown lady in bed no 1
plays azaan on her phone
“do you think this will cause her to have another panic attack?”
sammy makes me laugh
and the doctors start their rounds for today.