hometowns i never lived in

I grew up in delhi.

Whenever someone asks where I'm from,

I don't know what to say-- when you're from Delhi, really, you're from everywhere.

So whenever someone asks me, hey where are you from, my eyebrows furl

You see my father is from Bombay no wait Meerut or wait

Gorakhpur

You see my father's mother is from calcutta no wait orissa no wait she got married in calcutta.

((i think))

I remember once in political science class,

A heavy discussion of our roots.

Our teacher, being one of the kindest ones told us that movement is inherent to everyone who lives in this city

I, 17 and confined to a 7 km radius between my house, my school and the mall; confused.

What do you mean, my mind raced.

Is this not mine, then?

The big tree outside my window,

The hum of silence in winter evenings

The jolly of summer days with chasing the ice cream man and

bicycle accident shaped scars on both knees

The anticipation of games like hide and go seek

When I put out this thought,

It was met with the ridicule of smirks and giggles

The question, never answered.

If not this, then what?

I am a patchwork, of hometowns I have never lived in

Of people who left everything

In search for a place to call one’s own

People with history adjacent to that of my country,

It catches them too, by surprise,

the desire, of space

To bring things into the realm of existence,

To create something from nothing,

Fabricate formidable federations,

Produce parchments of possession.

I am a patchwork, of hometowns I have never lived in,

Problems I have never had to outrun,

A hefty inheritance of lessons

I was never forced

To learn.