Michigan in Color


I imagine her waves, before I enter 

like hands softly caressing the sand of the shore 

They ease their way towards my feet 

And we meet each other halfway 

"I took it at Dr. Hari Singh Sevak Senior Secondary School in Kotkapura, Punjab (school named after my Nana ji, maternal grandfather in my mom's hometown)"

Punjab. Literally the land of five rivers. . . or, well, it used to be. You see, even the name of our homeland brings pain these days. How can I tell you the pain of Punjab? Quite honestly, it is a pain that I can hardly even understand.


When the Motherland

Finds Home in

Your mouths,

My heart Beats

as fast

as You Speak.

I Hear

the Sun




“Paris, Je t’aime.” 


সুবর্ণা; the color of gold. In Bengali, my mother tongue, pronounced: shoo-born-ah. The name given to me by my parents, recent immigrants to the Western Hemisphere, lovingly gazing down at their firstborn child in this new world.


My tears flow like yours

As does my blood when you cut me

Tearing the color off my skin

Slicing the culture off my clothes


When I was five years old, I found myself on a muddy, cold football field. I was in kindergarten playing flag football in Saginaw, Michigan. I was the only girl.

University student

Last January, a professor from Duke University sent emails to h