Food Court.
Pacific Center Mall
Vancouver,
4th March 2009.

In the mall? Alone?
Writing!!!???

No, I would rather just write.

I'm lit in the artificial.
Neon yellow halo's that spell 'Flaming Wok. Chinese food here!'
I am not Chinese.
or English. or Canadian.

The modern artifact of post-colonialism:- Me.
Brown suede shoes, and black cardigan, I am a walking vestige of their Indian colony;
won and lost.
western in my eastern skin.

Or eastern in my western skin?
My skin which has been tainted by them, 150 years ago?
How can I call this brown flesh,
exclusively mine?

*rewind*

Me.
wrapped in a turquoise blue sari. austere bun, each strand of taut, silken hair yelling for liberty,
like the voice of all my countrymen.

I was gathering fallen jasmines in my palms when they threw me out. House ablaze, men caged.
The smell of fire and ash and wilted, trampled jasmines.
You Indian Scum.

*forward*

Me.
feet resting on metal rims of the stool, fingers clutching my 2$ bottle of chilled Pepsi.
My head swims in kaleidoscopic advertisements, Gucci bags, fur coats,
the aroma of my jasmine scented Calvin Klein perfume I sprayed meticulously earlier in the day.


The war they abdicated is even now, won.
With every Mc Donald's, every Levi's, I buy, their war is won.

Did all our sacrifices remain futile?

.....................




Not to say that Ima mulla inspired kid with an anti-westernization agenda of my own,
but isn't it sad? Through the media and the commercial hoopla, they've managed to infiltrate our lands once again. It means nothing to be a cultured eastern anymore?
What east? What culture?


but yes, i do eat at McDonald's too.
it's just something to think about,

love,
-eeda.