You live in a northern capital
Time passes
You leave
You live in a fragrant harbour
Time passes
You leave
But
Like a tree that has sucked in water sucked in air to build stories of its life—distinct rings each year—living inside you are leavings of the northern capital, of the fragrant harbour. You too have taken up something of your surroundings and when you examine your own rings, you know anew how two of them—thirty years apart—are stained in blood.
Let’s say that on the day before this day, you heard a poet read aloud how his rubber ear was sewn on as a nurse held the prosthetic in position. Medication stopped the poet from feeling blood run down his neck and cheek, but he could taste it and began to spit. His poem ended thus:
The nurse put gauze pads
Northern capital, fragrant harbour
between my lips and apologised.
Things like this happen all the time.
Someone bleeds, someone apologises.
after Rick Bursky
You might respond Sure—Except that time in a northern capital, except that time in a fragrant harbour. Bleeding, but not the rest.
How to cite: Saran, Mishi. “Just Another Day: Mishi Saran” Cha: An Asian Literary Journal, 4 Jun. 2023, chajournal.blog/2023/06/04/mishi-saran.
Mishi Saran is finishing a novel set in Shanghai. Her first novel The Other Side of Light (HarperCollins India, 2012) was shortlisted for the Commonwealth Book Prize. Her acclaimed 2005 travelogue was reissued as Chasing the Monk’s Shadow: A Journey in the Footsteps of Xuanzang (Penguin 2018). Saran has curated, co-edited or contributed to several anthologies. Visit her website for more information.
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