(This article was originally published on Readomania on December 26, 2014)
It was the 29th of December 1999. Rohan Khatri was ecstatic as he stood in the line to board the flight to India, departing from FortWorth International Airport in Dallas. He was going home. A place he had been waiting to get back to for over two years. A place where he would be fed endless rounds of Makki Di Roti with Sarson Da Saag tirelessly prepared by his loving mother. A place where he could stay under his SuperMan quilt well into mid-morning, enjoying the caressing Delhi winters rushing through his soul. More importantly, he was going back to Smita, whose tearful face as she saw him off to the US was etched in his memory. Even with tears in her eyes, the shy smile she gave him as she wished him luck had made her seem the most beautiful woman ever.
To read more, click here.
It was the 29th of December 1999. Rohan Khatri was ecstatic as he stood in the line to board the flight to India, departing from FortWorth International Airport in Dallas. He was going home. A place he had been waiting to get back to for over two years. A place where he would be fed endless rounds of Makki Di Roti with Sarson Da Saag tirelessly prepared by his loving mother. A place where he could stay under his SuperMan quilt well into mid-morning, enjoying the caressing Delhi winters rushing through his soul. More importantly, he was going back to Smita, whose tearful face as she saw him off to the US was etched in his memory. Even with tears in her eyes, the shy smile she gave him as she wished him luck had made her seem the most beautiful woman ever.
No comments:
Post a Comment