Endear This Land.

The Oz 

of India

glitters

with

a

treasury of precious 

souls.

*

For a long time,

India 

lingers 

in my heart.

It began in

childhood.

I was nine.

One afternoon,

a commotion drew me

to the kitchen window.

A Chinese man,

likely a construction supervisor,

was barking into the face

of an Indian worker.

His words

 were

ugly, wicked and inhuman.

As he sputtered on,

the pudgy bully

whacked the

helpless youth on his head

with a tough, long, rolled-up document.

Heartbroken.

Hot tears.

I tiptoed,

pressed myself against the window grills

and cried

with all the power in my lungs,

'SHUT UP!'

Then,

I didn't know what else 

I could do for the

Indian man.

Days after, 

with high hopes to 

win over my Indian classmates,

I lugged bulging net sacks of my Polly Pocket collection

to school.

Those little pretty things gained me a few companions for recess-time and countless mischiefs. 

I was very pleased.

At 16, 

I customised a

gorgeous cream and gold sari

for prom night.

Secretly delighted,

when a teacher wondered 

if I was part Indian.

At 21,

I met two sweet angels -

Dhanusha and Sowjanya.

They 

taught me enjoying life

with the littlest things:

picked delicate purple flowers,

laughter

and

hugs.

This year,

Sowjanya bought me a

maroon sari from India.

Now,

we are family.

In future,

we will visit

India

together.

*