Inside the mind of an immigrant
If you blew on a dandelion all your wishes would come true. (Whenever my parents would take me to the park, instead of going to the playground, I would roam around and search for dandelions to blow on). Sometimes unconsciously I still do that. A four-leaf clover will bring you good luck. When I wasn’t … Continue reading Things I would believe in when I was young
Ever since I was young, I remember always being pushed back. I remember being behind the curtains and never on the front line. I remember being scared of love and affection. Everything was always about my cousins and how beautiful their drawings are, and how cute they look. That made me very insecure. I love … Continue reading Why I write
“Appi,” the little kid calls me out of respect. His name is Aman; he’s as old as my ten-year-old cousin, but he acts and talks like he’s older than me. “Haan.” I give him a quick glance to show him that I’m listening. All my other spoiled bratty cousins are holding onto juice boxes and … Continue reading Village life