Chapter 1

एक अध्याय

   I remember when I heard the news. I was a little happy, yet sad. How could it be possible? They can't take away our cultures. The elders have sweet memorie here. Now we're forced to leave our own country. We will all be cold and won't be used to all of the snow we'll get. The Russians won't be used to our climate either.

   I've had my memories here myself. I can't believe he's dead. Why ya Allah? I desperately want to know why. But as the Holy Book says, everyone will come together in paradise or hell, whichever they're destined for. Maybe we can both come together in paradise.

   I go help my mom pack. The day we have to move out by is March 11. That day is exactly a month from now. Some have already moved out and claimed a house in Russia, or New India. My country and China will have "New" in front of the name. So will Russia.

   "I bet over time our race will become lighter and the Russians will become darker." my mom always says to me.

   "I believe so as well." I reply. I have wondered.

   "It will be so odd having this happen to us. I already miss Old India, yet I want to leave." Of course I don't really. I can still remember his smile. His eyes were so brown and his skin was tan. Oh why did he have to go?

   My thoughts are quickly interrupted by the adhan, the call to prayer. It's the special Friday prayer, so we must rush to the mosque.

 

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I agree with the girl thoughts. Weather is harsh in Russian. It would be a very hard move for both sides. I like the feel and the desire to pray for answers. A very good beginning to the story.
Coyote