‘I’m here,’ I said, my voice soft.
‘Are you OK?’
I held back my tears as I spoke. ‘I’m lonely, mom. I don’t need this form dad.’
‘Tear the letter and throw it.’
‘I am battling Ananya’s parents here anyway. This is such a strange city, I am
welcome nowhere. And now you think I am imposing on you,’ I said and couldn’t
control myself. I held the phone tight and cried.
‘Stop Krish, don’t,’ my mother said.
I composed myself and used my left leg to open the fridge. I took out a bottle
of water and drank it. ‘What do I do?’ I said after I regained composure.
‘Come back. Why don’t you apply for a transfer back to Delhi?’
‘I only came here six months ago.’
‘Say you have family issues. Tell them I am sick.’
‘Mom, please.’
‘Leave your job if you have to. We’ll find another one. There is a Canara Bank
right across our house.’
‘Mom, I’m in Citibank. It is an MNC.’
‘Fine, we will look for a multinational. Swear on me you will ask for a transfer.
Don’t be trapped in the city with horrible black people.’
‘Mom, they are not all bad.’
‘I don’t care. Apply for a transfer or I will send a letter to your boss. I will say I
am an old woman and you have to consider my plea on humanitarian grounds.’
‘Mom, swear on me you will never do anything like that,’ I said and smiled at
her choice of words inspired by Indian government offices.
‘Then you do it.’
‘I will, mom. I have to finish a few things first. I am almost there,’ I said and
regained my composure.
‘OK, you fine now?’ she said.
nora
(Nora)
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