ਖੁਸ਼ ਦਿਲ (kush dil / happy heart)

I arrive at JFK

after twenty-nine

endlessly elongated

uneventful

hours.

I walk through Manhattan

re-enacting childhood movie scenes

I climb the building and bridges

taking in this iconic city.

I taste every bagel, pretzel

pizza slice and local delight

but what I’m surprised to find

is your Queens home

is where my heart feels happy.

I see a tapestry of cultures

vibrant

bold

characters in conflict

unfolding their stories.

I feel the comfort of chaos.

My inner monologue

quickly switches to an old white guy

venturing through exotic lands

narrating his journey

to find the best masala chai

or something spicy like that.

The Guyanese cuisine sets the scene

as Punjabi pughs pulsate in Nissan Pulsars

Reggae melodies morph into the night

all intertwined

like a symphony of tongues.

I’m envious

of this country

where each subculture

has space to find its home.

I’m relieved to escape

the pasty panorama of Perth

upholding uptight British politeness

so, I embrace the freeing (yet polluted) air

slowly expressing

my true desi self.

We blast Babbu’s Red Gaddi Challenger

on the way to the kids’ swim class

whizzing past store names and street signs

that blow my mind

Gurdwara Avenue

Lassi Corner

Apna Bazaar

Singh Farm

Satgur Signs

King & Queens Punjabi Jutti

Where the bloody hell am I?

We walk the malls of Flushing

“The American Dream”

screams at me from all angles

Marshalls & Burlington sweating consumerism by the kilo.

My trip coincides with a nagar kirtan

a swarm of Punjabis buzzing

I hear blaring kirtan and katha

stalls of jelebi, kulfi, pani puri

we push through thousands

waiting in laborious lines

for mouth-watering chole bhaturey

while boys and men stare at me

with that Delhi death stare.

I feel my mum’s big chef energy

channelling through my body

as I spend most of my days in the big apple

cooking scones, pesto and daal makhni

chopping fresh watermelon and mint

sharing my love language with my kin.

I forage for Aussie favourites from Queens library

to read to your children

I try on your salwar kameezs and anarkalis

feeling more and more beautiful

with each glittering chunni.

I cook my famous veggie lasagne for your extended family

we sit around your firepit sharing poetry

and childhood tales

sipping on ginger ale and flavoured bubbly water

swaying on your porch swing like separated sisters

you get teary eyed as your firstborn reads from the heart

I feel special for witnessing priceless family memories.

While your toilets might swirl the other way

and my time with you has only been seven short days

I want to subscribe to your Queens way of life

my mannerisms were once deprived

but now my mother tongue has come alive.