The Wrenching Divide
Aneeta Chakrabarty
The twitter world of Indian teens went into a buzz about the “cute” guy working in the Indian restaurant. The word on the street was that he was morose, unfriendly, and “burning with a quiet rage.” Girls flocked to the Indian restaurant on Riga Avenue. They ordered, they waited, they giggled, they tipped generously but the quiet, fierce-looking “dude” was just that, “angry, mad and in a world of his own.”
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The Lonely Kashmiri
Aneeta Chakrabarty
It was his second week in America, and Suresh Razdan was bewildered, lonely and longing for somebody to connect. He felt his stomach rumbling and making weird noises and realized it was way past lunchtime. In spite of bringing his lunch of chapatis and vegetables in his tin lunch box, he felt ashamed to open it and eat it in the cafeteria. Two days ago when he had done just that and ate with his fingers, a loud raucous laughter greeted him. He timidly looked in the direction of the laughter, and saw teenagers who looked Indian but acted very different. They seemed to be very hostile and spat out a new word "FOB" with utter contempt. He cringed as he thought about it and sought the shades of an isolated tree with huge roots that reminded him of home.
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