Wednesday, October 6, 2010


I make a lot of mistakes here.

I forgot Hamid Karzai's name in front of a bunch of Afghanis. My kurtas are always getting torn and held up with safety pins, and my chai is either 90% water or 90% milk.

Some of the mistakes I kind of like -- mixing up the Hindi respectful "aap" with the informal "tu" so I end up talking to kids like they're my boss. They probably are.

But one of the sweetest things about my community here is that I'm usually forgiven, and the space gives me room to grow. People keep drinking my chai, and encouraging my Hindi.

One time the girls in our sewing class noticed a problem with my salwar pants. In minutes they wrapped a sari around me, made me take them off in the middle of the room, and tailored the problem while laughing at me.

Every day that I stumble, pay too much for an auto-rickshaw, or act like a weirdo in somebody's home, I'm reminded of how lucky I am to be supported, welcomed, and somehow, loved.


Sonia said...

i must say no mistakes while writing this beautiful piece...hmm minute observer you are..
keep it up madam!

Anonymous said...

love is indeed a superpower. so cool that you're discovering your powers. :)

befor sunset,before sunrise said...

these little galti's you make add to the very zest of an ordinary life.your anecdotal experiences are almost making me envy you!
take care girl..and me,soooo proud of thee!!!!

ashley said...

with these blogs you prove once and for all that you've moved past your 'alot' days. but muffs, seriously?? who could not love you! 'tis all too easy m'dear...

B.real said...

Hail to the steps- especially those we call missteps- that remind us we are perfect love.

Peace is every step, Anki. And you are perfect love.