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Writer's pictureNitya

The Dichotomy of a Southern State


I didn’t experience North Carolina until I left the capital

Where Chapel Hill Road cuts through

Like a winding river. Branching out into smaller streams,

Its black waters lined with mostly

Red cars. Red seems to be the new fashion.


A friend once told me that this was the safest place to live.

You hear this too, and pack your bags

and move to the city called the

Containment

Area for

Relocated

Yankees.

Where cacophony of construction

replaces every green canopy with cement.

You’ll soon realize that

“Safest” is a synonym for “monotonous.”


Driving through Chapel Hill in your red car

You, wouldn’t see

The lush green fields filled with corn or

The frolics of flowers.

The North Carolina I knew was all asphalt and architecture

And the zooms of airplanes that sizzle the TV.


People didn’t speak country.

Save for when you started saying “Y’all”

With your friends because you thought it was funny.

Now you say it un-ironically.


To me, North Carolina was not a southern state.

After all, it was more similar to the suburbs

Of New York and Pennsylvania

Or

As my mother would say,

A Second India.


You see, My entire neighborhood put up lights for Diwali instead of December.

The candlelight of diyas twinkle like stars in front of each door and

String lights hang like firefly curtains on the garages

as people in beautifully embroidered red dresses

Circled the community with sparklers and firecrackers and laughter.

Though, you might still find the light remaining through Christmas

And New Years

and, sometimes, Valentine

because Indians don’t know the concept of

boxing day.


You will find not 1, but 4

temples within a 20-mile radius,

The majestic terraces stretching

Far into the horizon. Each packed with

people on any occasion. And wheat-colored faces

intersected every classroom

Club and clique of my High School.


And then I came to Wilmington.


Where the closest temple was but two hours away.

Back in my hometown.


Wilmington was not Morrisville.

Those around me don’t put up lights for

Diwali or know of its existence.

Since moving here from India, this

Is the first time I lacked

the healthy serving of brown

I was so accustomed to.


Instead, each day, I learn of new southern customs

Like the southern biscuit!

Cookout quesadillas and milkshakes make up most

Of my college diet

And the “Y'all”s have unironically become

an infamous Part of my speech.


And yes.

I have tried the celebrated

Cheerwine

I hate it


 

I wrote this for an open mic, but I don't think I'll do anything with it.




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