I’m from the old songs Appa plays in the car everywhere we go, lyrics I don’t always understand but always feel.
From hands together, praying each evening, from Sunday afternoons sharing special plates and numerous helpings.
I'm from freezing hands in the snow, refusals to bundle up, and hearing my sister’s laughter as our age remains never a limit to play,
from unevenly split lava cakes and arguments over fair bites and better pieces.
I’m from Sunday singing lessons though my voice remains hidden, from Amma’s beaming smile as songs from Rio fill the room just for her.
From opening comic books every night and Appa’s voice guiding our laughter, from negotiations to let the pets up onto the bed because comfort should be shared.
I’m from adoring Appa as he laughs hard and wanting to be the reason, from always trying to make him proud,
from “everything happens for a reason” and “you’re capable of anything, Chellam.”
From Appa’s strength and Amma’s kindness, from Paatti’s gentle hands and Thatha’s wisdom.
I’m from Chennai, from noise and culture, from heat and prayer,
from a place I miss so deeply when loving it battles the distance.
I'm from family, from all my people,
from every place that has felt like home.