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Namrata Verghese
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August 2019
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The Juvenile Immigrant: Indian Stories from America
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“The Kathakali man dances out the stories of your people. His ancient spinning filled your childhood nightmares. Years later, you met him again. Smiling, as always, on a jar of mango jam, in Target’s ‘International aisle’. Trapped in glass, he was still, for once—limbs frozen in incomplete twirls. Patel Brothers’ Mango Jam, he proclaimed. Bursting with the authentic regional flavours of India! The f reverberates: fff-flavour … Green face. Red eyes. The stories of your ancestors. The nightmares of your childhood. Infused, now, with Authentic Regional Flavour.”
― The Juvenile Immigrant: Indian Stories from America
― The Juvenile Immigrant: Indian Stories from America
“The baby was born five pounds six ounces, dark-eyed, curly-haired, and dead.”
― The Juvenile Immigrant: Indian Stories from America
― The Juvenile Immigrant: Indian Stories from America
“This year, for the first time, I fell for a woman. A woman who looks like me. On her, black eyes are inviting, coarse curls enticing. On her, darkness glows. In falling for her, I fell for myself. Hard.”
― The Juvenile Immigrant: Indian Stories from America
― The Juvenile Immigrant: Indian Stories from America
“Win the spelling bee and you will know what it means to be lonely. Win the spelling bee and you will know what it means to master the tongue that has mastered you. To boast of your victory in the language of your master.”
― The Juvenile Immigrant: Indian Stories from America
― The Juvenile Immigrant: Indian Stories from America
“The baby was born five pounds six ounces, dark-eyed, curly-haired, and dead.”
― The Juvenile Immigrant: Indian Stories from America
― The Juvenile Immigrant: Indian Stories from America
“This year, for the first time, I fell for a woman. A woman who looks like me. On her, black eyes are inviting, coarse curls enticing. On her, darkness glows. In falling for her, I fell for myself. Hard.”
― The Juvenile Immigrant: Indian Stories from America
― The Juvenile Immigrant: Indian Stories from America
“The Kathakali man dances out the stories of your people. His ancient spinning filled your childhood nightmares. Years later, you met him again. Smiling, as always, on a jar of mango jam, in Target’s ‘International aisle’. Trapped in glass, he was still, for once—limbs frozen in incomplete twirls. Patel Brothers’ Mango Jam, he proclaimed. Bursting with the authentic regional flavours of India! The f reverberates: fff-flavour … Green face. Red eyes. The stories of your ancestors. The nightmares of your childhood. Infused, now, with Authentic Regional Flavour.”
― The Juvenile Immigrant: Indian Stories from America
― The Juvenile Immigrant: Indian Stories from America
