Sejal Shah

I remember it still as a bodily sensation, the visceral pull toward the screen I felt that day, when watching the film. I can still feel the electric current when I hear the music - effervescent - when I write this. I wanted to fall into that blazing color during the songs. Bright orange and yellow marigolds, red saris, pink turbans, the sky streaked with color, laundry fluttering outside. ... After watching Monsoon Wedding, we wanted to dance - we wanted someplace to unwind and expend the coiled energy built from listening to electronic dance music. But the only place I knew to go dancing on a Tuesday night was a salsa night at a local bar in Northampton. - [describing the experience of first seeing the film Monsoon Wedding (2001)] excerpt from the essay "Matrimonials".

Life is not about weddings but about cooking and dishes, laundry and work, writing, parents, teaching, taking out the recycling. I know this now. House hunting, moving, drafting a will, taxes. Making the appointment for snow tires. Determining the compromise temperature, the maximum number of blankets and books the other person can tolerate on the bed. Life is not about colors and themes or even saris. I know this now, but still, weddings astonish me: the threshold, the intention, the cusp; the crucible, the gathering, the hope. - excerpt from the essay "Saris and Sorrows".

Do you have Old sorrows I can use as curtains for a while in my bedroom Or in other places until we get curtains? - [Author's text reproduced as autocorrected from the word "saris" to "sorrows"] excerpt from the essay "Voice Texting with My Mother".