Inside the mind of an immigrant
I'm anti-social. Sometimes. Depending on the people and the circumstance and the time and space and the atmosphere. I'm semi anti-social or partial anti-social. Or maybe 3/4th anti-social. Or maybe 1/4th anti-social. But the point is that I'm anti-social regardless of how non-anti-social I want to be. I get nervous around people I'm not used … Continue reading Being Anti-social
"It's okay." "It'll be alright." Your lips are moving but your words aren't reaching me. I'm trying so hard to grasp onto the letters spewing out of your mouth, but they slip from between my ears like sand does in a closed palm. I can’t comprehend what you’re saying. Don’t raise your voice, it’ll only … Continue reading Will it actually be okay?
Every time I’m at the verge of giving up, my mom slaps sense into me. Literally. Her hand is so heavy that she could send me back to Pakistan with the flick of her finger. But every time I say, “I can’t do this.” She makes that face where she clenches her jaw and her … Continue reading Is giving up an option?
I’m a disgrace. A flaw. An error. I know this because I’m not a doctor, or lawyer or an engineer. I have a bachelors in biochemistry but besides that, I’m nothing special. I come from a degrading, toxic culture that praises career as if it’s a rank. As if it’s a cast. And according to … Continue reading I am not special
“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