Five Pieces by Janvi Sikand

5 Pieces

Words and Illustration by Janvi Sikand

1. room for one more?

2. my mother does not know anything about me

3. saved you a slice

4. same body forever

5. if you turned into a snail

1. room for one more?

this one’s kind of crazy, so read it how you like. but i will tell you that when things go wrong, as things often do for a variety of reasons outside my own control, i start to wonder whether it was all my fault. is this karma in action? are the sins of my past life bleeding into this one, and manifesting as mean baristas and bad hair days? i begin to believe that if i trace the butterfl y effect back far enough, i can fi nd my misstep. as you can imagine, this is not quite how things work. if shame has become your primary emotion, angel, i want you to quit the self-fl agellation spiral and squeeze out of the perpetual confession box you’re locked inside of. read “Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver and kiss your knees and knuckles. Geese” by Mary Oliver and kiss your knees and knuckles.

2. my mother does not know anything about me 2. my mother does not know anything about me

me? i’m my mother’s little pet. her jaanu doll, her fi rst baby for as long as she lives and probably after that, too. me? i’m my mother’s little pet. her jaanu doll, her fi rst baby for as long as she lives and probably after that, too. and she’s my idol, my bestie, my frenemy for life; god, she’s been through so much, how could i not admire her? but when she sends me pictures of childish fast fashion clothes she thinks i’d look good in, or asks about a hobby i abandoned in my mid-teens, i wonder if she knows me at all. i thought we had a telepathic connection, hasn’t she been listening to the inner workings of my mind in the years since i left home? doesn’t she see that i’m not a child anymore? but it’s my own fault: there’s so much i haven’t told her, my immigrant princess, trauma mama, light of my life. i don’t want her to regret loosening the grip on her only little girl, i don’t want her to worry. still, i’ve only known her for twenty years. sometimes she begins a story about her life before a family– her dreams deferred, her wild twenties or the atrocities of youth– and breaks off mid-sentence, saying i’m better off not knowing.

3. saved you a slice

you know the saying that goes, “future you is watching the current you through their memories right now”? creepy, right? but my past self is prime time television fl ickering on the back screen of my mind, and i get why my high school friends didn’t stick around with the resident militant SJW, little miss pick-a-fi ght. i can see all the mean things i said to my little brother in our youth, the silly decisions i made in my fi rst year of uni, the cringe stories i overshared to random strangers at parties. i inadvertently sabotaged every relationship i had, and i’m so sorry, but look! i’m better now! the girl i am now has a cat that i hold baby-style and sing nursery rhymes to. i’m a nanny and i make money and spend it on vintage red leather boots. i have a new haircut and new housemates and new tattoos and new bedsheets. i haven’t had a panic attack in a year and i listen to the music you introduced me to. my grades are so good and my research is so interesting and sometimes my mother will ask how you are. and i say i don’t know, we don’t know one another anymore. don’t know, we don’t know one another anymore. you’re the reason i changed, so thank you, i suppose, but i wish you were here to witness it. you’re still the voyeur in my mind awarding me gold stickers for most improved, one of a growing collection of my ghosts watching trees fall in forests. i want to call you back with an ouija board, conjure you into my living room because tonight, i’m hosting a soirée for all my friends. i’ve baked three cakes that you’ll never taste and put on a dress you’ll never see, and you should be here. don’t worry though, i’ve saved you a slice, just in case you ever decide to swing by one last time.

4. same body forever

you give birth to a pale, squirmy baby girl, and before you know it, she has a full head of hair and can walk. she outgrows infant shoes, loses teeth, wears glasses and braces. gains a few, loses a few, develops stretch marks, scrapes knees. gets tattoos, picks at her legs, donates her hair. experiences joy. experiences horrors. is this the same tiny body you grew within you? or has she become a new beast? this the same tiny body you grew within you? or has she become a new beast? the science brain knows that this body is only the latest iteration of complex physiological interactions, the sethe science brain knows that this body is only the latest iteration of complex physiological interactions, the selective activation of new genes, proteins twisting into quaternary structures. that it’s only a matter of time until lective activation of new genes, proteins twisting into quaternary structures. that it’s only a matter of time until my telomeres begin to wither away and smile lines turn into wrinkles. am i damaged goods for having to drag my telomeres begin to wither away and smile lines turn into wrinkles. am i damaged goods for having to drag around the same carcass that has suffered so? or should i feel grateful to lead my squirming baby body through a life that can be so good? is your body really yours? will you keep it forever?

5. if you turned into a snail

love endures. love permeates and persists. tell me what you need. pass a folded note into my sweaty palm. visit me in my dreams and drop me a line. leave a letter in my mailbox, send an email to my inbox. i am searching for signs of love everywhere, just say the word.