Sunday, April 25, 2010

Sonny Mulchandani

Sonny Mulchandani
Where I’m From (modeled after George Ella Lyons’ poem)

I am from Vanita and Deepak.
I’m from the lovely glistening lake on the Academies campus
(the cool moist breeze in the air),
from the makani chicken and burritos,
the thrilling taste that I remember.
The feeling of delight as the cocunut cream touches my tongue.

I am from playing chess at Englewood Cliffs Senior Center
And giving food to the homeless, my biodmedicine class.
I am from playing tennis,
For which I have longed.
I am from, “Watch your thoughts for they become words, watch your words for they become actions, watch your actions for they become habits, watch your habits, for they become character, watch your character for it becomes your destiny.”

I am from Garden State Plaza,
(Hollister, Abercombie, and Guess).
I am from my Nani and Nana, my mama and mami,
From Anil, Jatin and Susu (the cousins that I love from the bottom of my heart),
From dil he darkan namara zindiki ki roshani he.

On the bottom shelf of my bedside table,
There is my dark green binder which contains my grades
From Memorial Middle School.
I am from all those special places that bring a smile
And laughter on my face.


Sonny Mulchandani
Fiction Story

The boy is in a deep state of unconciousness under a large white cargo truck in the parking lot of the Pathmark Shopping Complex on Route 17 in New Jersey. The boy’s eyes begin to focus. In the background, he hears something faint, yet it is dramatic, like a scream.


The boy climbs out from under the truck. He sees his mother crying while sitting on the curb of the sidewalk. He has to get to her, he thinks. Her hair is blowing against the breeze. He can see her tears pouring down her face as he inches closer. She keeps sobbing and says faintly, “Sonny.”

At that moment, the boy sees his bloody knee, but finds the strength to bring himself up to his feet. He doesn’t care about the pain, and limps to his mother. The boy’s face is covered with dirt and scratches. His mother ‘s mascara has made black streaks across her cheeks, and her eyes are blood red. The boy falls into her arms and hugs her tight.

He can hear the operator answer the call, “911, what is your emergency?’

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