There's Something About Mira

by Sonali Dev

Finding parking at the temple on a Sunday might be harder than finding God.

Real

The investment in what you build together: a home, children, a family, a place in society. The fear of losing that is what tides a marriage through life’s storms. Not love.”

Sometimes I wonder how people like Saket and Druv, who’ve only ever been showered by unconditional acceptance by their parents, could ever understand people like Rumi and me. But it’s their deep sense of being enough that seems to capture us.

Here I am, walking down Broadway, munching a bagel that sticks to the roof of my mouth like a yeasty cloud slathered in cream cheese with little bits of crunchy garlic. And everyone I love is in pain.

There’s nothing more annoying than an Indian person who thinks they’re not.

😢

Why is it that I start to write a letter promising myself that I will fill you in on the things happening in my life but by the time I’m done, I’ve become a newer version of myself?

I’ve never been happier that my parents shun social media and instead prefer to get their misinformation exclusively from WhatsApp.

To this day, my parents act noticeably strange when “foreigners” walk into the store. It’s almost as though, like their ancestors, they’re still living in colonized India, and a colonizer just walked in.

they do some sort of testosterone-laced shoulder bump.

Help that’s so silly I like the writing

They nod their joint disapproval at the temperamental weather gods.

Help that’s so silly

Women are supposed to be the ones who dream about their wedding day from when they are girls, but I think Indian mothers dream about their children’s weddings from the day they’re born.

A group of older people laugh loudly, then stop, then laugh again as they practice laughter yoga.

Help I can literally see this scene taking place in front of me rn

You can’t judge your courage in a different world based on the world you’re in right now.”

“God is punishing us for leaving our family and moving to a different country. If we’d raised you children in India, this would never have happened. My mother told me that if I abandoned her, my children would abandon me too. It’s a curse.”

“You don’t need to translate that,” Krish says when I open my mouth to do just that. “Real men don’t need directions transcends language.”

“We’re all eating each other’s food on this earth, child. Never feel guilty to eat when you’re hungry. Just remember to feed the hungry when you can.

I’ve often wondered if the life you gained when we lost each other was worth it.

I hope there’s someone there telling you how beautiful you are, someone to cherish the force of nature you are, someone to scold you to rest. Another jealous and brutal piece of me wishes it’s me still, who sits on your shoulder, who makes you care for yourself because you can’t bear to upset me.

It’s like I don’t recognize the person who’s taken over my body, and I want the ease of my old self back. I’m a bird who’s never learned to fly, toppling out of my nest. I can’t fit in the nest of my old self anymore. All I can hope is that my wings will find a way to hold me up before I crash to the ground.

Nana Nasty, as Saket and Rumi call Krish’s grandmother,