this is about nothing

by Uma Jagwani

I buy meaningless watermelons. I buy meaningless bread. Then, I go to a falafel stand, where I exchange a period of my time and effort for something to fill my stomach. The person I pay has also exchanged a part of their time on earth to feed their stomach. And so it goes.

In the elevator, I look at my sweaty, meaningless face and feel disappointed. Not white! As if one day, I’ll step into this elevator and exit on the seventh floor as a part of the ruling class. I wonder if someone could pick their own face, that they would pick these features: large brown eyes, lumpy cheeks, wide mouth, and wide nose. Not an Instagram face.

I have to call my bank today, so I contemplate suicide. I wouldn’t do that to my loved ones, my parents. Alas, it feels like I have two options: end it all, or call the bank.

I called the bank. They thanked me for enrolling in this program that allows the machine to recognize my voice. Once, I called and they said the machine had not recognized my voice, and it was because I still had Morning Voice. You know, the one where your mouth is still asleep but your brain is awake.

I wonder if everyone is in pain and causing pain– both the endurer and the source. I wonder if we’ve been lied to. I’m running out of time and a credit card limit. If we didn’t have jobs, what would we be doing? George looks for a job in another episode of Seinfeld.

I’m going to a monastery so I can understand what it means to be alive. I heard being alive takes practice. The kind where you practice breathing and feeling joy. Joy is a practice.

I’m tired of cleaning up messes. Even if the mess is from something I have not yet lived through. I’m not just tired, I am existentially exhausted. I wonder if aliens feel this way. Then, I realize I am one.

If I lie, and say I am joyful, there is a chance it becomes true. So in this way, lying is not a bad thing, but a path to the truth. I find it interesting how the ten commandments always have an exception. They should place an asterisk next to each one. I think about how Seinfeld is a “show about nothing,” which is actually about everything. I recall the time an interviewer asked Jaques Derrida about his thoughts on Seinfeld.

After looking at the television, I look out the window. If I focused long enough, the mountain looked like it was breathing. I wanted to put ice in my coffee not because I wanted it cold, but so it would last longer. I have FOMO of my friends posting photos on a yacht.

The next day, I went out. And before I leave, I check the mirror and try to not hate things about my appearance. On my mirror, it reads, gratitude will only bring you more things to be grateful for.

I put on shoes and tried to not find flaws in them. I wanted to feel beautiful. I joked to myself that the only way I would is if I woke up as a white girl.

I wonder when ‘I love me’ is enough, sings Demi.

I buy a loaf of bread, and try not to loaf around.

At the tip of my tongue lies a world of possibilities. At the nose of this plane, lies a land I do not call my own.

Airplanes have sucked the breath out of my mouth. I fly to my sister, then my mother.

I want to wear a hat just so I can tip it to someone. I tiptoe around my mother’s feelings, and my father’s. I forget to leave a tip in America, after landing with European habits.

In life, nothing is immediate except your immediate family. Growing and learning and failing and flailing and reviving takes time–yet anything crucial can happen in an instant– like time collapsing all at once, in birth and death.

As a girl, I mean woman, I am errant yet erudite. I live on the wings of things I did not create; I’d like to give wings to things I do create. The more I think about flying, the more I believe in God.

Photo of Uma Jagwani

BIO: Uma Jagwani is an Indian-Filipino American poet. She received her B.A. in English and Creative Writing from Brandeis University and currently teaches middle and high school English. Her poems can be read in Underblong (Pushcart-nominated,) Impossible Task, and elsewhere. Find her on X (@umajag) and at umajag.com