By Samina Hadi-Tabassum

I.

My brother Deep stands before a mirror in my bedroom
His long black hair dripping water onto the wooden floor

Watching him comb the tangles with a plastic comb
I laugh as I pull the knots out with my tiny fingers

With a warm bottle of coconut oil my mother came next
Kneading deep into his scalp with long tapered fingers

Jumping on top of my bed I watch him standing firmly there
Coiling the long rope of hair patiently into the white patka cloth

Twisting and turning, torque motion, winding around and around
Until the coil comes to a rest, caught in a tight knot with a string

Then the flat square of the red turban, looping bands in rhythmic motion
Climbing stairs of layered cotton, cutting corners with binding ties

Tying from front to back, front to back, crossing over the patka on the top
Holding the bands in his mouth, higher then lower to cover his ears

Tucking in the folds so it sits tight, pulling in loose ends in the back
A red fortress sitting and waiting, for the last bit of cloth to cap the crown

II.

My brother Deep stands before me at my mother’s funeral
His short-cropped hair peppered in white, my coil bound in gray

My uncle hands him the yellow bandana while walking into the gurdwar
Reminding us to wash our feet before climbing the temple’s marble steps

Upstairs the women greet me with an embrace, whispering Waheguru in my ears
The turbaned uncles and grandfathers sing along with their shorn American sons

The songs of the Guru Granth Sahaib, passages from a scripture I no longer know
Bring peace into my heart, for my mother, the detached words were divine love

Hymns, prayers and verses for solace, my mother would whisper to me
In moments like these when we drift apart, when we struggle to become one again.

About the Author:
Samina Hadi-Tabassum is an associate clinical professor at the Erikson Institute in Chicago. Her first book of poems, Muslim Melancholia (2017), was published by Red Mountain Press. She has published poems in East Lit Journal, Soul-Lit, Journal of Postcolonial Literature, Papercuts, The Waggle, Indian Review, Classical Poets, Mosaic, Main Street Rag and These Fragile Lilacs. Her poems were performed on stage as a part of the Kundiman Foundation and Emotive Fruition event focusing on Asian American poetry.

For more information: Samina Hadi-Tabassum