Between two monsoons
Photo: Karan Madhok
‘i measure distance / not in miles / but in the way my mother says “beta” / over a lagging call / where her voice arrives before her breath’
i measure distance
not in miles
but in the way my mother says “beta”
over a lagging call
where her voice arrives before her breath
here, the rain is disciplined
it falls on time, in straight lines
no smell of mitti rising like a prayer
no aunties pulling clothes off balconies mid-chaos
no chai that tastes better
just because it’s raining
i have learned to translate myself
into softer Rs and careful syllables
to shrink “achha” into “okay”
to laugh at jokes i don’t find funny
and explain why my name is not “too difficult”
but some nights
i crave noise
the kind that spills out of indian homes—
pressure cooker whistles,
distant bhajans,
someone arguing about politics
like it’s personal
i miss being known
without explaining
here, i am “where are you from?”
back home, i am “kitni patli ho gayi hai”
both questions
carrying a kind of love
and a kind of distance
i carry india in fragments—
in the oil my hair still smells like
in the instinct to overfeed people
in the way i say “just 5 minutes”
and mean at least 20
sometimes i feel guilty
for loving this life
for the quiet roads, the independence
the version of me
that would have never existed there
sometimes i feel guilty
for leaving
i exist in translation
a foot in two timelines
one where i left
and one where i never did
and maybe
this is what it means
to be indian abroad—
to constantly arrive
and constantly miss
to build a home
out of memories
i didn’t realise
were homes
***
Suhana Bhattacharya is a lafzon ki musafir—a traveler through words. Through her writing, she explores themes of identity, emotion, resilience, and the quiet beauty found in everyday experiences. She hopes her work encourages readers to pause, reflect, and connect with their own stories. You can find her on Instagram: @suhuhu_suhu.
