Art by Maninder Sidhu
my grandmother never swept the floors of our home
at night
striking my little hands if I picked up the broom
she told me in Punjabi, Lakshmi is coming
filling the air with her voice
like ochre and crimson spices at Sabzi Mandi
……she was a night owl who didn’t know boundaries
……meeting at the centre of all paths
she didn’t wash her hair or cut her nails after dark
insisting that any cleaning or sweeping after sunset
is deeply disrespectful and inauspicious
shooing out blessings before they can arrive
—if necessary, you must keep the dirt inside
and not throw it out until the next morning
to prevent your luck from leaving
before Partition
my grandmother’s childhood village in India
……(Sidhwan, Punjab)……had no electricity
and they never cleaned in the dim light of oil lamps
afraid to lose their everyday valuables
like coins or jewelry
or unwed daughters
easily swept away with the dust
can I use a vacuum instead?
I asked her once
she shook her head, replying,
prosperity should not be disposed of
after dark
Harman Uppal is a Punjabi writer from Vancouver whose work focuses on dismantling metropolitan fallacies by introspecting queer and BIPOC ways of life alongside popular culture. He has been published by t’ART Press, the Poetry Institute of Canada, Hajar Press, and was a runner up for the 2025 Central Avenue Poetry Prize. In his spare time, Harman also enjoys painting and writing fiction. Right now, he is pursuing a PhD in diasporic literature at Simon Fraser University and is working on his debut novel. He currently lives on the unceded territories of the Musqueam, Squamish and Tsleil-Waututh peoples.