I am from the Quran,
from the Kufi and the Tasbeeh.
I am from Ali and Bahauddin
from Tareequat and Naqshband.
I am from the aging apartment,
The smell of spices erupting from the walls.
I am from the Coriander,.
the aging Jackfruit trees
whose long gone limbs I remember
as if they were my own.
I am from Carrom and dark skin,
from Cricket and Hockey.
I am from endless conversations and evening tea,
from addiction to soap operas.
I am from ” respect your elders” and “complete your prayers”,
from “Eat to live, don’t live to eat”.
I am from Ramadan and Eid.
I am from New York and Nawabbari,
from Curry and Pilaf.
From the struggles of my father,
who brought together a family.
A cardboard box in which lie pictures forgotten.