It's been almost 1 year in Korea. And I'm find myself to miss eating spicy biryani with raita, eating my mom's cottage cheese when she's not looking before they become juicy rasgollahs and indulging more. Miss my bhabi's colourful laddus, just thinking about them makes my mouth water.
Miss wearing my saris and bindis, putting on the heavy thick kohl around my eyes and the brightest red lipstick I own. Wearing my jhumkhas, with matching glass bangles and payals, ankle bracelets, that makes sound wherever I go.
Being stressed by my father, who is already downstairs dressed and smelling of cologne, which my mother reminded him to put on. He has somehow managed to iron 3 sets of saris and gotten himself suited and watching segments of a football game that he already knows the outcome of.
My mother being extremely annoyed with us, 30 and still can't wear my sari without her help. Adiba running in and out from her room to my room, to my parents room and the bathroom, borrowing make up and jewelry. This girl has still so much to learn but her liner is always on fleek.
Been having this urge for a while now, to dance in a 4 day long Desi wedding to Bollywood and random Bengali songs, choreographed or freestyle. Dancing with my friends and family, doing the most typical Desi moves, twirls and changing light bulbs, in my heavy sari that's at the verge of getting unfolded but somehow staying put together because of that one safety pin. Having my sisters as dance partners and then seeing my mother pulling up my dad to the dance floor and seeing them goofing around with all the other aunties and uncles. Dancing all day long for 4 days straight.
I miss being colourful, loud and free of worries.
I guess no matter where you put me in the world, you won't be able to take out the Desi in me.
Miss wearing my saris and bindis, putting on the heavy thick kohl around my eyes and the brightest red lipstick I own. Wearing my jhumkhas, with matching glass bangles and payals, ankle bracelets, that makes sound wherever I go.
Being stressed by my father, who is already downstairs dressed and smelling of cologne, which my mother reminded him to put on. He has somehow managed to iron 3 sets of saris and gotten himself suited and watching segments of a football game that he already knows the outcome of.
My mother being extremely annoyed with us, 30 and still can't wear my sari without her help. Adiba running in and out from her room to my room, to my parents room and the bathroom, borrowing make up and jewelry. This girl has still so much to learn but her liner is always on fleek.
Been having this urge for a while now, to dance in a 4 day long Desi wedding to Bollywood and random Bengali songs, choreographed or freestyle. Dancing with my friends and family, doing the most typical Desi moves, twirls and changing light bulbs, in my heavy sari that's at the verge of getting unfolded but somehow staying put together because of that one safety pin. Having my sisters as dance partners and then seeing my mother pulling up my dad to the dance floor and seeing them goofing around with all the other aunties and uncles. Dancing all day long for 4 days straight.
I miss being colourful, loud and free of worries.
I guess no matter where you put me in the world, you won't be able to take out the Desi in me.
