I am from Crayons,
from Crayola and paraffin.
I am from the cracked walls in my ceiling
(miniature yet proliferating,
identical to sketches.)
I am from rose tree,
the Rhododendron,
whose crimson red flowers
I use for pickle and juice.
I am from discipline and patriotism,
from Amatyas and Shresthas.
I am from the be-a-doctor or-an-engineer,
From Study well! and Work hard!
I am from the belief of reincarnation of the soul,
my body cremated after death
yet my soul immortal.
I'm from Patan and the Malla's dynasty,
dal bhat and momos.
From the mole on each generation of my family,
to the almost pneumonic death
of mine after birth.
Under the television rack was albums
filled with memories and reminiscence.
I am from those stories with happy faces,
fortunate but nostalgic.
