Immigrant Stories - Tumblr Posts

"payt bhar kay khalow"

I don't know much of my mother tongue, but what I do know has come from conversations with my grandmother. Usually about food.

"payt bhar kay khalow"

Which means "eat until your stomach is full". Or something like this. And in this way she feeds me. She sustains me. She tells me it is okay, to take until I am satisfied. Demands it with a stern voice and plate full of offering.

"payt bhar kay khalow"

I'm 15 when my uncle's gaze tells me I shouldn't have another slice of cake. My grandmother plates me a second piece with a overdone wink, shoving it into my palms even when I say no. Even when I want to take up less space. Even when I want to disappear. She does not ask. She is demanding I exist unapologetically.

"payt bhar kay khalow"

I am 17 when I have my four wisdom teeth removed. Spitting up blood in the sink, trying to replace my gauze, I come to the kitchen for a glass of water to down my antibiotic pills. She asks me if I want to eat. I roll my eyes. Try to manage through the cotton in my mouth, that I can't. Assuring her I won't starve in the hour it takes for the numbing to wear off. She dosen't sound convinced. She keeps trying to feed me. I think she does not trust the world, not to devour me while I heal.

"payt bhar kay khalow"

She is telling me to eat before I leave. What if there isn't food there? Eat. Eat, just in case. You'll be hungry. I don't want you to be hungry. I think she does not trust the world to sustain me. To give me what I need. I do not blame her. I do not trust it either.

"payt bhar kay khalow"

She always sends me home with tupperware full of leftovers, enough for at least three days, every time. Even when I tell her there is no room in my fridge. That there is no space at home. She makes me promise to ensure my mother eats. She tells me "layja". Take. So I do. I think she does not trust me to sustain myself. To take what I need. I do not blame her. I do not trust me either.

"payt bhar kay khalow"

She says eat. You look exactly like your mother. Your mother never ate. Your mother is looking thin. What she means is, my mother hasn't called her in months. Your mother never ate. What she means is your mother never took. What she needed. Your mother never ate. What she means is: your mother never ate my food. My cooking. She never let me sustain her.

But my mother eats. She takes. I know she does. But never until she is full. Just enough to survive. My mother tells me the story, of calling her my grandmother at a train station in the middle of the night when she was pregnant with me. She asked for spicy foods. Haleem. Pakora. She asked for food. She asked for other things. She asked to come home. And my grandmother told her no. My grandmother turned her away. My grandmother said: Take less. Be small. Be good. Your satiety is conditional. It comes after that of your husband. And his father. And your child. You eat last. You eat what is left.

"payt bhar kay khalow"

I think my mother never outgrew this lesson. I think, yes, my mother is looking thin. I think, yes, my mother never eats until she is full.

"payt bhar kay khalow"

I think my grandmother understands now. And so she tells me

"payt bhar kay khalow"

Eat until you are full, child. Take until you are satisfied, girl.

- There Is A Difference Between Taking And Taking Enough