everyday awe
by Mayur Chauhan
Mayur Chauhan, you are art, Micron pens and printer paper, 8.5 x 11 inches, 2019. Courtesy of the artist.
everyday awe
Mayur Chauhan | DEC 2024 | Issue 40
“You cannot be where you want to be without being where you are.”
–Mayur Chauhan
I love tattoos
My paternal grandmother, I called her Amma ji, had a tattoo on her right forearm, of her name, in Devanagari script: कौशल्या (Kaushalya.)
I often joked with her that if she ever lost her memory and they asked her name, she could point to the tattoo. I used to ask her questions about the tattoo. Did it hurt? Why did you get it? When did you get it? She said – she didn’t remember, it might have hurt, because others were getting it.
My maternal grandmother, I called her Naani, had an ॐ (OM) tattooed on the back of her palm.
Fashionable ladies on both side of my family, I thought.
For some reason, in the cities, when I grew up, tattoos were considered uncouth and feminine. If you have visible tattoos you lose chances of getting a corporate job, people told me. First they want you to be yourself but when you are yourself they’re like ‘oh no not like that.’ Corporate hypocrisy can fuck-off.
But good news, tattoos are back in fashion, the younger generation is all about tattoos. Even men in India flaunt their tattoos.
I know what you’re wondering and the answer is no. I don’t have any tattoos.
Why? Promise me you won’t tell anyone.
You promise, right? OK.
Here’s the thing, I am very very ticklish. The thought of getting a tattoo makes me giggle and tickle. I’m the guy they throw out of massage parlors because I scare other customers by my nervous laughter. Maybe I carry too much tension in my body. But then who doesn’t?
People ‘correct’ me that getting a tattoo doesn’t tickle but it might hurt. Their point being?
I have, however, thought of a few tattoo ideas:
a peacock feather, in all colors possible, you know, because of my name
दिल्ली for my Delhi
the name of my Papajee, Khajan Singh
and on my chest, on the left where the heart is, a tattoo that says: you.
grocery list
Coffee & Crossword
I can’t hold coffee, caffeine leaks through me. If it doesn’t, it’s not good coffee. You want coffee tested, I’m the guy you go to or come to, depending on which direction you’re at. Chai has caffeine. 70% of the human body is water. Not me. I’m 100% chai plus some coffee every now and then. I’m leaking as I speak.
And yet, and yet I wouldn’t recommend anything otherwise. I can’t imagine a part of me that doesn’t flow through. Stagnant water goes bad.
At the coffee shop this morning I asked a guy if he does his strictly medium crossword in pen and he offered me his pen because the music was loud or I wasn’t louder, who knows. I corrected myself and he smiled and said he messes up a bit still and yes he does do his crossword in pen.
I feel he and I are the same.
We mess up and we continue.
On the high-chair, where the sun starts to come in first, the reflection of the car outside makes the store shine more than eyes can hold, the room warmer, the school kids buying coffee, mothers picking up drinks for their children, Stephanie I heard was one name, Rafi was another.
In the free library, outside the school, a book on deep philosophical investigation in red cover, outside the church in a car a man sleeps, what’s the difference between a jug and a jar, the Sunday sermon would reveal. I think the difference is of scooping and pouring.
For years I scooped. I recommend pouring. You may quote me on that.
Mayur Chauhan, Potential, Micron pens and printer paper, 8.5 x 11 inches, 2019. Courtesy of the artist.
onomatopoeia
thuk thuk thuk
thud
greer
thad
gud gud gud
(silence)
phshphshphss
sheee sheee
thud
kuduk kudhuk kudhk
(pause)
khee dhug dhik
(air)
woooooooooo
tik click thak
(smile)
click click click
ghoosh
whoosh
woooooooo
sheeeeeeee
grgrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
kitkitkitkatkit
all the sounds
all the awe
around me
soft lulls
wind chimes synchronized
breeze working overtime
sun reported for duty
birds chirping early
a woman waves at school buses every morning
dogs chase squirrels and fail
an ambulance awakens
church bells ring every hour
a neighbor, a nurse, left for work
train station on Chandler bustling
in such moments, unbeknownst to me,
i forget to remember you
but
is it not you
in the wind, the breeze, the sun, the birds, the woman, the dogs, the squirrels, the
ambulance, the church-bells, the neighbor, the train station?
a thought without you is not a thought,
i see you even when you come in disguise
my grief is my privilege
Picture this
man, retired
woman, middle-aged
pine tree, twelve years old
tree, eventually, made into paper
man, regularly, sat in this cafe
where the woman waited tables
the man
pointed at the table
shaky like a weak metaphor
the woman could care less
her shift was over
and still
she folded a napkin
from the same old pine
and squeezed it under the table
views of distant towns
a sprinkled thought all over
the ones that pass you from a train
or the ones you pass over in a plane
with a story of their own
a deer over a hill at night
blink and you miss it
a river named after the goddess of water
steadfast
there is also that town
where I meet you
again, and again, and again
the one from my dreams
I seek you at the end of every turn
a pulse, a pause, a lifetime
the shadow of words left unsaid
each town has a mandate: wander
constructing dreams
architecture of authenticity
foundation-floor: faith + fantasy
each sub-floor cemented with hopes
bearing of values equally apart
walls of rituals, discipline, joy and letting go
stairs of support
beams of love
roof of belief
doors unlocking creativity
windows of wonderment
pillars of perseverance and principles
delays and doubts temporary
house-warming soon
everyone’s welcome
Mayur Chauhan, projects & me, Micron pens and printer paper, 8.5 x 11 inches, 2019. Courtesy of the artist.
World Famous Quotes By Me
Audiobooks are really good for your eyes.
I lit one candle today and then another. I could have said that I lit 2 candles today but then how would I waste your time like I did mine?
My favorite rom-com ending is "and they lived happily ever after in a rent-controlled apartment.”
Hats are the best haircut.
I buy used books because I come from money.
Eve was the world’s first palindrome.
When my first short story got published my parents asked me how much money I made and I thought in my family I was the comedian.
Never second-guess your third guess only once.
I hear these voices in my head, whenever I listen to a voicemail
Knee-high boots are just upside down shorts.
A dream in a dream about dreaming a dream in a dream is how you get insomnia.
I have something to say about Green Card, but you’ll have to wait for five years.
Not many people know that I’ve a degree in law. Because I don’t.
I started acting to introduce Hollywood to Indian male characters not named Raj.
latent dreaming
On my evening walk, (there is no morning walk),
before the last right turn
after passing the elementary school with fences
where a cat sleeps by the stairs
near the palm tree
that supported me as I tied my shoelace
by the sunset, a lady walked by
ordering food on her phone
basil, oregano something
pizza I thought
cats don’t eat pizza, I thought
at least mine don’t, I thought
a foolish dream to call them mine, I thought
if anything, I am theirs, never the other way round, I thought
after crossing the freshly painted yellow crosswalk
touching the plants I don’t know the names of
outside the house where I saw a possum once
when suddenly yet also planned from the beginning
the (add your most favorite superlatives and intense adjectives here) smell of jasmine flowers
stopped me, pulled me, held me, a lover like
it was then
my eyes closed and I woke up and started dreaming
all at once
Mayur Chauhan, a crazy idea, Micron pens and printer paper, 8.5 x 11 inches, 2019. Courtesy of the artist.
under the flyover
opposite a coffee-shop
at the traffic light, a young woman
sells flowers
between red and green
how much?
one time I asked her
she said
“whatever you want”
what a gift
reminding me
of the choice
I had
forgotten
Mayur Chauhan, joy, green pen on glass window, 2019. Courtesy of the artist.
An Ode To Dev Anand’s Guide, A Way Of Life And Beyond
adapted from a novel to suit my pleasure
hard to remember where I found first the treasure
they hummed your songs before I was born
I remember Dev Sahab in another movie chew corn
what was it about Guide that stayed with me forever
not enough space or time to accomplish this endeavor
it was a black and white TV in house my childhood known
my family & relatives shouted lines before they were shown
there Raju Guide at first climbed ladder after ladder of greed
how an eight year old me took mental notes with high speed
but a plot twist, a change of heart, mind, body, soul all torn
you gave up everything, for them, it was a way of life, shown
a mistake taken too far, a habit of our creed
you took it and turned it into a good, holy deed
my rain-loving heart beats forever now as a norm
self-transcending acts of yours guide me to transform
everyday awe (an incomplete list)
smile on the face of a stranger, with closed eyes, facing the sun
speed of a badminton birdie
imagine a long train, longer
warmth of a blanket hugged by a loved one
all the sounds a cat makes
tight grip of a little child
rainbows
double rainbows
when an airplane covers the sun for a brief second and the shadow takes over the space.
when a ceiling fan stops, starts again with a mind and pace of its own.
dot-like cows grazing in silence seen from a car driving by
free libraries
geese flying back home at sunset
pause
couple looking for long-tailed ducks
roads through mountains
wind
wind chimes
walk in misty rain
video calls with beloveds
all the lights turning green all at once
the urge to tell a stranger you’d never meet again how much you love them
Mayur Chauhan, your job, Micron pen and index card in Key West, 2019. Courtesy of the artist.
Dearest Reader
I love you
I’m glad you are here
Let me say it again
I love you
I’m glad you are here
Mayur Chauhan is an L.A. based immigrant, writer, actor, and teacher of creativity. He writes stories in all forms and has published over 40 pieces in Khôra, McSweeney’s and elsewhere. A Bread Loaf, VONA and Key West Literary Seminar scholar, Mayur created and facilitates C.A.R.E. for Artists– an 8-week long online creativity, & accountability group for artists across disciplines. He wants you to know that you’re amazing. Mayur loves writing letters by hand, chai and you.