really hot days
remind me of my home

the one across the sea
with mangos ripe on the vine
and yellowed grass

if I close my eyes,
i can almost taste the dust in the air
feel the warm embrace of my family members
that i miss so dearly
smell the petrichor off the hot cement floor after a fresh monsoon rain

time zones apart feel like worlds apart
and they are
when your family is dying
and there is no way to comfort your aunt
because her husband is taking his last breaths

there was no chance for her to say goodbye
to her father, to her husband,
both lay in hospitals
continents apart
isolated, but not unloved
both gone, not even a month apart

the borders have been closed for i don’t even know how long
there is no physical way for us, let alone her own children, to be present
all we do is wait

most of my memories are spent on
drinking chai on the veranda
or dancing in the rain with Papa
playing holi with pails of water mixed with “gulal” and water pistols.
seeing the smiles of all my family members,
together once again.

really hot days
remind me of my home
smoke from the wildfires mimics the smog in the air
the sun - a red ball in the grey sky
if i shut my eyes real tight
i can still get a glimpse of us on the rooftop, celebrating life.