Fabric

Try as I might, I cannot be a poet. That kind of grace and rhythm doesn't come to me. I have tried, especially today. But to no avail. That effortless style and pace will never be mine.

Why the need of a poem suddenly? Why today? Because it's been exactly a year since I left home, since I left Delhi. And what a year it has been, well,if not a poem, at least I can try making a list:
From journeying to the U.S. to across it,
From being rejected by every good job to finally getting a faculty appointment,
From learning to watch even trashy Hindi movies just so that I don't forget the language even by a syllable,
From cooking for one, two, to twelve people at a time,
From retaining friends back home to making new friends of new colors and nationalities,
From being homesick to knowing that I will miss America when the time comes to give her up,
From learning more about India now than ever before,
From telling the world that I miss my mother the most to bursting into tears the first time I hear my father's voice across the many miles of land and sea.

It's been...eventful.