Karan is an ordinary boy living in Brooklyn, New York. Life is as normal as normal can be.
On his 17th birthday, his father surprises him and says that they are moving back to their roots, in India. A land of spiritualism, faith, and most importantl...
I opened my eyes. For a moment I was confused because it was still dark outside. Moreover, I was not on my bed but rather on a plane. Then I remembered, I was moving to India with my father. I looked at my watch which showed the time as 2 am. Since I lived, or at least used to live, in Brooklyn I had to set my watch ahead by about 9 hours to compensate. The plane was quiet except for the humming of the engines. As I looked outside the window, all I could see were the stars. The moon was nowhere in sight.
It's a new moon today I guess.
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I reclined on my seat thinking about how we got here.
I had just turned 17 and was out celebrating with my friends. As I got home, Dad told me he had an announcement to make. He told me that he had got an offer from his higher-ups to transfer to New Delhi for some research. You see my dad is kind of a big shot in the archaeology scene and ARWA; which is the International Association for archaeological research in Western & Central Asia; wanted my dad to go over to India to look over a new archaeological site that they had discovered. And here's the kicker, we were supposed to be moving there permanently. Like we would never be coming back. And to me that was crazy.
To my surprise, my father asked me to decide. He said that he didn't want to make such a drastic decision all by himself. And since the two of us had been together through everything he wanted to make sure that my say also mattered in decisions regarding our life.
I was in a dilemma. Sure Brooklyn wasn't the best place in the world to be living in and trust me when I say that. Most of my childhood memories consist of me being bullied by other kids just because I looked different. My father had it even worse after the 9/11 incident. people would constantly be telling us to go back to Pakistan or Bangladesh etc.
But even though there were plenty of bad memories, I did eventually end up making a few friends that were very dear to me. Friends that had been by my side through thick and thin. And although the city hadn't been the best to me, I had gotten used to the Brooklyn skyline. After all, no matter where you are, leaving the place you spent your childhood in is always going to be difficult.
I wanted to say no. I really did. But Dad had always said that he regretted not being able to go back and visit his hometown as he was busy with work all the time. Add to the fact that I had never visited and he had always wanted me to accept my roots. So when he got the opportunity, he immediately jumped at the offer.
Spoiler alert, I agreed to move. Not that I could have refused anyway. As you may have already guessed, my Dad and I had always been very close ever since my mom passed away when I was 8 years old. My dad never specified but from what I know it was some rare type of cancer. I still remember hearing my dad breaking down in the bathroom trying not to be too loud to not make me worry. After that, it was just the both of us. He never remarried and I tried not to cause (much)trouble. We were happy together but occasionally he would stay up late drinking and shedding a few tears sitting on the balcony as he mumbled Mom's name. He never forced me to do anything and just let me live my life and so I felt obliged to listen to him when he asked me to do anything.
