A place where he did not belong
Awave of despairing homesickness hit Neingulie after ending the call. Hearing his parents’ voices from thousands of miles away felt utterly alien in his colourless and sparsely furnished room. He ached for the comforting sight of the familiar colours which he now associated with home. Everything in this city felt strange; the houses and its people, the language, the food, even the weather. They all served to remind him that he did not belong. The overwhelming heat continued to daze him and he longed for a breath of the crisp hillside air to clear his mind. He marvelled in disgusted astonishment, recollecting how he had once actually begged his parents to allow him to leave his restful life back home. One day, while at an impossibly crowded market in Sarojini Nagar, Neingulie was startled by the sudden and rude blaring of a bike’s horn from behind. Someone shouted “Oye Chinki! Hato yaar!” He did not bother to look back but promptly gave way to whoever was trying to get past. This place had managed to bring out a quality of meekness he never knew he possessed. He had become accustomed to local riff-raff and even little children yelling “Ching Chong!” in order to attract his attention for whatever reason whenever he passed by. This wasn’t something he got used to. It continued to infuriate him as much every time. But he had learnt that this was just another thing that he simply had to endure, like his loneliness. Excerpts from Nigu’s Red T Shirt, by Avinuo Kire. The complete story will feature in Kire’s forthcoming anthology of short stories, soon to be published by Zubaan Books.