“Asif, beta where is your brother?” asked Mamata from inside.
She was organising her new house. Mamata and Salman had recently moved from city to suburb. They used all their savings and took a heavy mortgage to buy this place. Family, took a liking for the place with sprawling green field and tall trees. True, it will be a long commute for Salman to work, but Rohit will grow up healthy.
“Rohit went out to meet neighbors. Look he is walking in” Asif pointed at Rohit who happened to be deep in thought and took steps carefully on the paved walkway. Rohit approached his older brother, and asked,
“Asif, what is a refugee?”
“Mom, listen what Rohit is saying. Where did you learn this word Rohit?” Asif was perplexed.
“Neighbors said we are a refugee from Pakistan. They will not let us stay here. Are we from Pakistan Mom?”
“No son, we are not from Pakistan. We are from India. We are American citizens now. We can stay anywhere in this country. No one can throw us out.” Mamata clutched her son in a tight embrace. Rohit’s query had Mamata stumped. Mamata’s voice lacked conviction.
Word Count: 200.
This little piece of fiction was inspired by the weekly prompt challenge hosted by Sunday Photo Fiction August 5, 2018, for Aspiring Writers. Thanks for reading!
Picture Credit: James Pyle