words inside words

I was talking to my friend the other day, and I used the word 'iftar' in a sentence, the way it rolled off my tongue, the way it felt like a natural part of the conversation, the way my friend didn't even blink, the way she just nodded and smiled, the way the word seemed to fit seamlessly into the English sentence, the way it brought a hint of Urdu into the conversation, the way the word 'iftar' has a different connotation in English, the way it's associated with Ramadan and fasting, the way it's exoticized and othered, the way the word 'iftar' has a different meaning in Urdu, the way it's associated with family and food and love, the way it's a part of our daily lives, the way the word 'iftar' can evoke a sense of nostalgia and longing, the way it can transport me back to my childhood, the way I can smell the food and hear the laughter, the way the word 'iftar' can be a bridge between two cultures, the way it can facilitate a conversation between two languages, the way it can create a sense of connection and understanding. We were sitting in a small café, surrounded by the sounds of the city, the way the words seemed to hang in the air, the way the conversation flowed like a river, the way the words 'iftar' and 'sehri' and 'dua' seemed to find their way into the conversation, the way they seemed to belong, the way they seemed to be a natural part of the dialogue, the way the Urdu words seemed to live inside the English conversation, the way they seemed to breathe and pulse, the way they seemed to have a life of their own.