All That Chandni Knows

1999
Vadodara, Gujarat, India

See
Mummy tells me
to climb up this chair
to reach that top kabaat
and pull out from the cabinet
our family photo album,
to which will be added
the pictures that will be taken
tomorrow.

Mummy places the album on our center table
and we all gather around her

to look

and I can’t believe

that only I can see

this secret.

Picture Perfect
Today is my twelfth birthday
and it is also the inauguration
of my mother’s second clinic,
Chandni Hospital,
that is named after me,
like Suraj Clinic
was named after Suraj.

My family of five
is here since 7 a.m.
waiting for the whole town
to come and see between 9 and 11 a.m.
how shiny and sparkly
everything is.

Mummy circles her two fingers
to wipe off the dust on the ledge of that window
and uses her right foot to swish the mop
to wipe off the water Suraj has just spilled
and straightens this huge artwork of our national bird,
the Indian peacock,
that she made from mosaic tiles when we were little,
when she still had
time.

She directs the staff
to line up the rows of white plastic chairs again—Straight nathi—They are not straight
and to check on the kesar pista and cassatta ice cream and the foam cups and the wooden spoons
and the Bisleri—Paani?! Where is the water?!
and at 8:50 a.m.,
Mummy, who never wears a sari,
who is today wearing the most beautiful deep blue patola silk sari,
uses the pallu to wipe the late June sweat off her face.

At 8:55 a.m., when the first guests walk in,
Mummy turns to Daddy
and the feathers in her eyes tell him
Perfect
before they both walk together
towards the guests
with big smiles and big welcomes.
Aavo aavo! Come come!

And when the photographer says
Doctor Saheb,
let’s get a family picture first

and our family of three doctors and two kids
lines up,

I fix my beautiful deep green bandhani dupatta
and I force feathers in my eyes
that mirror Mummy’s,

and I’m determined
to tell this future photograph
that everything is

perfect.