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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