Self Help (Week Seven)

How to live in Two Cultures at Once

2002: Be admired by your relatives and have your cheeks pulled to the extent that you actually start crying out of pain.

2003: Wear Pakistani clothes to show how cute you are and how good of a child you will turn out to be

2004-2005: Start babbling and drinking chai. Trust me, babies love chai.

2006: Start speaking Urdu and have no knowledge of English

2007: Go to kindergarten and be utterly confused, slowly becoming an introvert

2008: Learn English and be the cool 1^st grader who knows how to speak two languages

2009-2012: Start bringing a home lunch and then stop. The flavorful smell of spices hurt the delicate noses of my classmates. Then, start seeing the vast differences between Americans and you

2013-2015: Adapt to the American world while your parents are staring at you like a hawk, too scared for you to become a rebel, as children most likely become

2016: Notice how you are never going to a sleepover or have a boyfriend

2017: Become the popular girl only to find out your parents can’t afford lululemon leggings or the expensive makeup – wait, your parents don’t let you wear makeup

2018: Become obsessed with American food while your mother makes so much Pakistani food that you don’t even eat when you come home, the ungrateful girl you are

2019: Start applying to colleges while your parents start calling your relatives in the states by the colleges that you’re applying to make sure they have spies wherever you end up

2020: Realize that all through these years, you have been looking at this with no solution, but the solution is right in front of you. Look at the mirror, you’ll realize it on your own.

Write a Letter (Week Seven)

I have a confession to make. But before that, let me give you a little context and useful information. The library. Full of books, magazines, audiobooks, VOX books, games, and much more.

Books are alphabetized by the last name of the authors, then by the title of the book. Then, children’s nonfiction books are numerically ordered with the spines so hard to read. Probably wondering why, I know this. That is because I am a shelving assistant. Meaning I shelve all of the materials in the library to their respective places. This means a lot of reading and taking double takes to make sure the material is in its proper place. This also means that individuals in the library (patrons) ask me questions. One day a patron asked me:

“Have you read any good books recently?”

I open my mouth with no words coming into my mind. I halt and pressure my mind into coming with at least one title of a book. At that moment, my mind was a trash can. Stuff goes in, but you can never really pick anything back out.

“Ma’am are you okay?” the patron asked with concern.

“Yes sir, I am. I can’t think of any books at the top of my head, but I will lead you to the front desk where they can recommend you good books to read” I calmly say as I lead him to the front desk. On the outside I was a calm employee, but on the inside, I was a complete mess.

So… yes. My confession is that although I work at a library, I have not read books for a while. Let’s not specify what a while means. That would be a completely different story to tell.

The Dream Poem (Chapter 14)

I am frozen in place

Nothing works and everything works

This place seems familiar yet unknown

Where am I?

The numerous doors hold mysteries

Mysteries that may not be worth the risk

By the way, I am still frozen

Where am I?

The ceiling is at least 100 feet up

White crystals hang from the ceiling

Or is it a hand?

Where am I?

Frozen in place

Mysteries doors and crystals

What in the world is making me frozen?

Where am I?

Free Write (Chapter 7)

Why, the insolent cold pulls me back into my car as I battle against it to get my mail. I just want my mail.

Why, the person graciously opens the door for me as I whisper a thank you, trying to catch my breath.

Why, the dog rests its head on the car door, sadly waiting for his owner to come back

Why, the clothes mischievously slip off the hanger, happy that they are creating extra work for me

Why, the water bottle clinks and clinks with every step made down a never-ending hallway

Why, the mother loving reads the book to her child, teaching her that “Everyone Poops”

Actions Overpower Words (Chapter 5)

The cliff seems so beautiful

With it embracing the clouds

But I remember the haunting thoughts

Like a needle poking my skin

The awful memories of my enemy

Stifling my voice into the mystic clouds

Never letting me take full control of myself

The thunderous wind whirs me back into the present

Please let me dive into the unexpected

Because

Doesn’t action overpower words?

Chapter 11

The Meeting

The tan carpet reflects the footprints in the house

Of the three individuals deliberating over serious matters

The matter is developing

With the focus of the picture

Not exposing my contract

The print of the contract

Is rather magnificent

As I have used a colorful array

To persuade my clients

My uncles in their beige shirts

Desperately waiting for the meeting

To end, as they have dinner plans

Afterwards, ironically,

With me!

Excuse the mess of the meeting room,

I am on a tight budget

My sisters and cousins make noise

Like the engine of a car after delaying

Too many days for an oil change

The women are busy in the kitchen

They know we are exhausted

After this meeting

After all, I’m only seven!

What is a Word Worth?

“Kuthi, junglee, janvar, besurat, uloo ka patha, sewer ki aluad” are all benefits of being bilingual. By the way, these are swear words. When my sisters are irritating each other in public, we don’t flick each other off. No, it becomes a verbal battle. The benefits of being bilingual: no one ever knows we’re fighting. With a smile on our faces, we are spewing poison to each other. Of course, figuratively. This definitely makes a trip to the grocery store a memorable experience.

I think that being bilingual makes each experience a bit more valuable. Being bilingual means that a person learns two different languages and two different cultures. Getting a break from one can be a relief, but it is like living at two ends of a lake; you can’t be at either side of the lake at the same time. It is a struggle, but being bilingual can be extremely rewarding at times, like forming a smile on a little kid’s face.

Patrons are struggling with finding books in Spanish. The cry of help is evident on their faces, with kids running around and the parents look like they need a break. Their daughter speaks English, but it doesn’t seem like the parents do. Timid and shy, they whisper to their children to go play while they go look around. Finally using my Spanish skills that I have learned, I walk up to them and say, “Ustedes están buscando para algo? (Are you looking for something?). Their faces light up like a rainbow after a rainstorm. We have a conversation in which of course, I tell them to speak a little slow because I speak a little bit of Spanish. I lead them to the world languages section and let them know I work here if they need any help. The smile on the daughter’s face was all I need. I feel like I let her know, she isn’t alone.

Being bilingual means a person who is fluent in two languages. I wonder if that is an accomplishment or a challenge. Of course, being bilingual looks amazing in resumes, and there is even a bilingual test at my high school where if you pass, you can get recognition on your diploma. However, no one ever comes to learn about the other side of being bilingual. Being bilingual can be being scared of being harassed in public, being teased about having an accent when speaking English, or just being teased because being bilingual is different.

Walking around in the grocery store, excitedly choosing one thing that I want. The options seemed overwhelming. The different flavors of chocolate wafting their way into my nose, one by one. Finally, I found one that smelled the best. Or I loved its packaging. Either way, it was chocolate. Heading over to my mom, I said in Urdu, “Ma, me yeh vala le loon? (Mom, can I get this one?”). My mom replied as she taps an employee’s shoulder, “Haan, par mere ko yeh nahin mil raha hai. Kisi ko poonch na? (Yes, but I cannot find this thing. Go call someone okay?)”. My mom turns to me for translation to the employee since her English was hard to understand at the time. I translate and I guess the employee heard my mom and me talking, cause she pointed to that aisle and said while laughing, “Bread is gonna be in aisle two, can’t you see the sign? Wait, sorry I forgot, you both probably can’t read right?” My first experience speaking in Urdu in public. And was the last for a long time.

Why I Am Who I Am

1.     “Yeh rak tho (Put this away”).

2.     The spice rises from her presence. She walks around with noses turning toward her in curiosity. When she makes curry, the smell comes towards her and sticks to her like smelly stickers to children. The smell changes per day, the array of smells is spicy, sweet, salty, sharp, etc. But mostly spicy.

3.     Carom, Disney movies, sled, apartment, winter, chocolate straws, too many cakes, Bollywood dancing, Bollywood music, Texas, ocean, arcade, swing, braids, brat, curry, hula hoops, bouncy balls, hopscotch, bike, hot chocolate, Uno, twister, French fries, video games, park, prayers, books, education, volunteering.

4.     The long, flowing, black tresses leave me in awe. It feels like strips of my blanket, cozy and comfortable. Her one gray hair leaves her at a loss of words. It smells like fresh coconuts when I lay on her shoulder. The comfort of her hair is something I will cherish.

Chapter 10

Rapunzel
I have a special talent

That I bet no one else has

Can your hair become a pulley?

Or a swing?

Can it decorate your house?

Like ornaments on a Christmas tree.

I have decided to venture upon an adventure

My dream of going outside the tower

That I will accomplish

But another dream awaits me

The dream of becoming a hair stylist

I don’t want to brag

But I believe I have enough experience

Let me change the world

With my hair

And if I accidently injure someone on the job

Which lucky for me,

I am clumsy enough for that to happen,

My magical hair and secret song are always stored for future use

Shush!

Don’t tell anyone,

Let me show one talent at a time,

Otherwise, people will for sure faint when they see

How much talent is in every part of my body!

Poetry Patrol - Poem

Scrunches her nose up when she’s angry

Speaks and speaks until our ears bleed

Arts and crafts all over the place

Her lesson plans are like posters all over the room

Always sits with her back straight

She stares and stares at her one white hair

Cursing that hair that is at the front of her head

She then turns to the window

Gazing about the unknown

With that one white hair dancing like a dandelion

Eager to know what my older sister is thinking about