Showing posts with label An Alien Among Flesh Eaters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label An Alien Among Flesh Eaters. Show all posts

Excerpt: An Alien Among Flesh Eaters - Anurag Sharma

The Cold Wall

- Anurag Sharma

Amar drove to the house, the one he still thought of as "theirs," though his name was now just a ghost on the mortgage. He hadn't called first. In his culture, you didn't schedule a crisis; you faced it with the people who were supposed to be your foundation.

He found Rita in the garden. She wasn't gardening, though; she was standing near the edge of the property, staring at the hilly horizon of Western Pennsylvania. She looked fragile against the backdrop of the massive, indifferent landscape.

"The company is gone, Rita," Amar said, bypassing the pleasantries. He stood a few feet away, respecting the invisible boundary she had drawn months ago.

She didn't turn around. "Companies go bankrupt every day here, Amar. You'll find another."

"It’s not just the job," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "The Green Card application is dead. My H1B is tied to the firm. I have sixty days. If I don't find a new sponsor who can take over the filing immediately, we have to leave the country. You, me, and Vinay."

That finally made her turn. Her eyes weren't filled with the fear he expected, but with a sharp, cold calculation. "I am not going back, Amar. I've spent six years building a life here, even if it was a life in a kitchen."

"Building a life?" Amar's sincerity finally cracked. "You haven't left the house in weeks. You don't drive. You don't work. How can you stay here without a legal status? If I leave, your H4 visa vanishes instantly. You become an illegal immigrant."

Rita walked toward him, her footsteps silent on the grass. "You always think you are the only one with a plan, Amar. You always think I am the 'dependent' because that’s what the piece of paper says."

She reached into her sweater pocket and pulled out a small, laminated card. She held it up. It wasn't a driver's license.

It was an Employment Authorization Document (EAD).

Amar stared at it. His mind raced through the legalities. An H4 holder couldn't get an EAD unless the spouse's Green Card process had reached a specific, advanced stage—a stage his application had never touched.

"How?" he whispered.

"I didn't need your sponsorship for this," Rita said, her voice steady and devoid of the bitterness she usually carried. "I filed for a U-Visa months ago. I told them about the 'mental cruelty,' the isolation, the way you kept me dependent by refusing to let me integrate. The lawyer said that in cases of domestic 'control,' there are protections."

Amar felt the world tilt. He had spent years begging her to drive, to work, to socialize—to be free. He had uprooted flowers for their son and spent his lunchtime driving across town to ensure she was never stranded. He had been the one pushing for her independence, yet she had used her lack of independence as the very evidence to secure her own legal safety.

"You told them I kept you here against your will?" Amar asked. His voice was a hollowed-out version of itself.

"I told them my reality," she replied. "And my reality gave me this card. I have a job starting Monday at the local library's administrative office. They prove transport. I don't need your car; I don't need your visa. Frankly, I don’t need you, or your s╔е─▒╩З╩Зy green card."

The "surprise element" wasn't the bankruptcy. It was the realization that while Amar was playing by the rules of a fair society, Rita had learned to play the rules of a broken one. She had found a way to stay in the "land of the richest" by painting him as the villain of her story.

"And Vinay?" Amar asked.

"He stays with the parent who has a future here," she said simply.

Amar looked at the house, the scentless flowers, and the woman he no longer recognized. He had lived his life believing that good deeds bore good fruit. He had sown seeds of care, but he was harvesting a crop of betrayal.

He turned back toward his car. He didn't have sixty days anymore. In his heart, he was already gone.

[An Alien among Flesh Eaters: Coming soon online, in the bookstores, and the libraries near you]

Synopsis: In the land of the richest, the cost of a future is higher than Amar ever imagined.

Amar is a man of protocols. He believes in the school bus laws of Pennsylvania, the precise requirements of his H1B visa, and the ancient laws of Karma: sow a good seed, reap a sweet fruit. To protect his son Vinay’s future, he uproots the fragrant flowers the boy is allergic to, replacing them with a scentless, sterile garden. He thinks he is building a home.

But while Amar plays by the rules, his wife Rita is learning a different game.

Trapped in the isolation of a "dependent" visa, Rita transforms her silence into a weapon. When a corporate bankruptcy threatens to deport the family, Amar finds himself caught in a devastating paradox: to keep his son in the country he loves, he must accept the role of the villain in a story he didn't write.

Moving from the humid foothills of the Himalayas to the icy hills of Appalachia, An Alien among Flesh Eaters is a masterful exploration of sacrifice, the legal labyrinths of immigration, and the silent, heavy weight of a father’s love. In a world where "left is right and right is wrong," Amar must decide if losing everything is the only way to truly save what matters.


Excerpt: An Alien Among Flesh Eaters

Anurag Sharma

Question from the Indus: Are Brahmins Real?

- Anurag Sharma

I had a good idea about diversity while living in India. After all India was the original melting pot. People came to India from allover the world with various motives. Some came in search of knowledge, while some wanted wealth. The attraction of a strange culture attracted many. I grew up with people of all kind of religions, colors, ethnicity and languages. In fact now when I compare, diversity was more common in India than anywhere else on earth. Still, there was one form of diversity where America beats India.

While living in India, I had a few friends from Nepal and Bhutan. Many groups of the Tibetan refugees used to come down from hills to planes in winter to sell woolen clothes. There were also many asylum seekers from Myanmar, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Sri Lanka and Bangladesh living in some neighborhoods. Some friends of mine had a few foreign classmates in college. Other than that, my exposure to foreigners was only with tourists, who occasionally stopped me to ask for directions or in some cases to sell their stuff for quick cash.

In spite of typical Indian diversity, meeting a Pakistani citizen was almost impossible for me. This is one area where I found America more diverse than India. There is a system of diversity visa lottery to encourage people to migrate to USA from the countries with smaller representation in population. For example, though IT workers from India had a decade long backlog in visa applications despite of huge pressure from hi-tech industries, green card applications from Pakistan and Saudi Arabia were encouraged and supported by the immigration departments through special lottery for these countries.

Sadiq was one such immigrant. Born and brought up in Pakistan, he got his green card in visa lottery. He was a qualified advocate but to avoid complications in a foreign land, he preferred to run a convenience store in our apartment complex.

He was very impressed with the progress made by India after independence. The education system in Pakistan is silent about its Indian heritage and any positive information about India. Meeting me was Sadiq's first encounter with someone from India. Coincidentally, this was also his introduction to a Hindu. He considered Indians as 'naturally smart' people. He was curious to know how they were different from their Pakistani brothers. We discussed about common ethnicity, culture and language. He believed that Pakistan's disconnect with its past was the root cause of most of the problems.

That evening when I stepped out of the apartment complex for a short walk, Sadiq was waiting for me with an elderly gentleman Dr. Raees. Originally from Pakistan, Dr. Raees had recently immigrated to USA. An interesting man, Dr. Raees was a fan of Indian history, culture, movies, and music. We became friend soon. When I was about to take leave, Dr. Raees invited me to his home for dinner on next Saturday. While praising his wife's culinary skills, he mentioned that I would love her non-vegetarian cooking.
 
An Alien Among Flesh Eaters
When he started listing all non-vegetarian dishes, his wife was going to prepare for me, I smiled and explained politely, "I am a vegetarian."

"What? You don't eat meat? Are you possessed by the ghost of a Brahmin?" He was shocked.

Puzzled at his reference to a Brahmin's spirit, I asked him the context. He explained that in 'his' Pakistan, if a child dislikes non-vegetarian food, they jokingly consider him or her as one possessed by the spirit of a Brahmin.

I couldn't stop laughing when I told him that I was indeed a 'living Brahmin'.

Realizing that the mythological Brahmins still exist on earth and the fact that he was talking face to face with a Brahmin was a shockingly pleasant surprise for him.

Of course, I accepted his invitation and enjoyed an excellent vegetarian feast later.

Excerpt: An Alien Among Flesh Eaters - Anurag Sharma

PREDICTION

- Anurag Sharma

This was an average Monday morning. Not any different from any other weekday. After getting ready for work, I opened the door and got hit by a statue which was standing right in front of me. I got scared and stopped. It took a moment for me to recover from the shock and realize that it was not a statue but a person. It was Ruby, our neighbor. What is she doing here? I tried to put a smile on my face and politely asked, “How can I help you?”

“Is your wife home? I need to speak to her?” she pointed towards my hand which was still holding the door.
“Of course, Rita is inside.” I opened the door for her and moved out of her way towards the elevator.

At work, I was too busy and completely forgot about the morning. The day passed and at the evening, when I came back home, I found Rita in tears.

“What happened?”

“Ruby came here this morning.”

“I know. I met her at the door this morning. I was surprised too. She never acknowledges our presence. What brought her here?”

“She’s in deep trouble”

“What happened?”

“She’s being evicted from the apartment. Where will she go?”

“Why?”

After listening to Rita, I realized the seriousness of the issue. Our neighbor Dr. Ruby Gupta was out of work for almost a year. Like many immigrant scholars, her H1B visa was sponsored by her employer, the university where she did stem cell research. As an immigrant, she was out of legal status, the moment her job ended. According to immigration law she had two options, one: find another job to sponsor her stay, or two: leave the country in 30 days. The downside was that Ruby defaulted on the rent payment for last six months. She also ignored the notices from the apartment management and now the management had sent her the final eviction notice.

“She has to vacate the apartment this month. She came here to call the cab company; her phone has been disconnected due to non-payment.

“No job, no phone, no apartment! Where does she need the cab for? Where would she go in a foreign land? Did she tell you anything?”

“No, she was completely lost. I assured her that we can find a solution to her problem …” Rita paused, “… Please talk to the apartment management. They will listen to you. I stopped Ruby from calling the cab. We will not let her become homeless.”

“We can try. But she should have left for India when her job ended. Why did she overstay?”

“There’s no point in worrying about the spilled milk. We should work to resolve the problem now.

She was too arrogant to ever talk to us. She hardly responded to our greetings whenever we had a chance encounter. But this was not the time to get even with her. I thought for a moment and said, “OK, I’ll speak to the manager. In fact, let us review her situation and ensure that she gets all the help she needs.”

We both chatted for long time that night. We reviewed her situation and discussed various options. One option was to request the management to let her stay for some more time so that she gets time to find a new job. Other option was to help Ruby buy tickets to return to her hometown in India. We had no problem in paying her airfare to India. Rita was fine in supporting her while I was at work.

Next day, around 7:00 PM, Rita and I went to meet her. We knocked at her door and waited for some time for response before knocking again. The door opened with strong odor. Ruby stood there in a disheveled state. I could see the sun setting behind her through the bare bay-window of her seventh floor apartment. She stood there blocking the door without inviting us. Reacting to her questioning look, I mumbled, “Good evening, we just came to say Hi.”

We stepped inside the unkempt apartment without waiting for an answer. Clothes were lying everywhere in the studio apartment. There was a sleeping bag in a corner. Another corner was full of books and papers. Landline phone was still hooked. Rita invited her for dinner.

“What’s special today? You never invited me for dinner earlier.”

“As your neighbor and fellow countrymen, it is our responsibility to help you in time of need” I could hardly complete my sentence.

“Don’t worry, everything will be fine.”  Rita added calmly.

“Everything is fine. I always knew it.” She was rude.

“What did you know?”

“That you were coming here to talk to me.”

“Really? How?”

“I was talking to Lord Krishna. He was standing right here. He told me that you both are coming.”

I didn’t like the sarcasm. I had second thought about our approach of helping her, “What else did Lord Krishna tell you? Please try to understand the gravity of the situation. You are out of status and can be deported anytime.” I tried to explain the obvious.

“Nothing will happen to me. See, they didn’t put me in jail yet.” She sounded unaffected.

“Yes, you are safe so far. It is in your best interest to go back home before you are caught in legal net.” I was genuinely concerned, “Don’t worry about the expense; we can make arrangements for your ticket.”

“What did I do wrong? Am I your enemy? Do you want to kill me?” she shouted.

“Enemy? Killing? What are you talking? The fact is that you don’t have money to stay here or to go back. We just want to help you. We’ll buy you the tickets.” I tried to explain.

She looked at me as if I was the most stupid person on earth and acted as if she was going to disclose a secret, “God told me that I will be alive only as long as I am in the USA. I will die as soon as I am in Indian Standard Time zone. Anyone talking about sending me to India is my killer.”

“Sorry, I didn’t understand. Could you elaborate?” I was confused.

An Alien Among Flesh Eaters
“Remember, you saw me in the gym, and I have seen you in the pool also...”

Her reference to the gym and the swimming pool reminded me how she used to turn her face away whenever I saw her.

“… Termination of my job was not  normal. It was sabotage. My accident was a part of the scheme to kill me. I survived it because I was in Eastern Time zone. I started physiotherapy, yoga, swimming and all kind of exercise. I did everything to get back to work.” She explained.

“OK.”

“In spite of all my efforts, the pain did not end. I cannot work anymore. Lord took care of my job and told me to stay in this apartment. He said, I will die the moment I reenter into India time zone.

“How did the Lord tell you so? Did he call you over phone?”

“Lord Krishna comes before me to talk …” she was full of confidence, “same way as you are talking to me.”

“I see.” I decided to beat her in her own game, “But today Lord Krishna told me that, at times you don’t understand his language. That’s why he wanted us to come here and help you.”  

“No, he didn’t tell it to me.”

“He told you, but you didn’t understand. He told you that you should go home on expiry of your visa. In fact, he was instrumental for your job situation and now he asked the management to send eviction notice so that you can go back to your family, your home. Lord doesn’t want you to be homeless. He wants you to be in your own home in your own homeland.”

“You are wrong. Management sent me the notice so that the Lord can come and pick me up.”

Her confidence scared me. I wanted to make sure that she was not trying to do any harm to herself. I wanted to know if she needed immediate help. So I continued the conversation, “How is he going to pick you up?”

“From there.” She pointed towards the window.

“What?” I was scared. Jumping from that window meant nothing but death. I followed her closely when she moved towards the window.

“Yes.” She pointed towards a spot in the parking lot and mentioned that Lord Krishna will come there to pick her, “His chariot will come there. Didn’t he tell you? Didn’t you say that he talks to you too?”

“Of course he mentioned it to me. But he also mentioned an alternative plan which he will reveal next week.”

“I also didn’t understand him well …” She paused and said with a little hesitation, “Although I am an MD, PhD, I am not very smart. Sometimes I cannot understand a simple statement.”

“I see. Which medical school did you go?”

It took almost 20 minutes for me to gather all relevant information about her except details about her family. She did her PhD in France but coincidentally she went to the same medical college in India where my close friend Ronit studied.  First thing I did after coming back was to call Ronit and see if he knew anything about her family.

According to Ronit, Ruby was a hopeless case. She was well-known for her mental instability in entire college. The management and the faculty just wanted to get rid of her by handing over her degree as soon as possible. Ronit promised to dig deeper to check about Ruby’s family.

Ronit called me on Tuesday and told that Ruby’s parents had died in a train accident long ago. She had a sister. When Ronit called her sister, she got aggravated just by hearing Ruby’s name and threatened to call police if Ronit ever called her again.

The road to help her was not easy. I decided to talk to her again about accepting the airfare from me and going back to her home. Rita and I went to her apartment again on next day. She was more receptive this time but still not willing to talk about looking for a job or going back to India.

On Wednesday, Rita texted me at work, “Come home ASAP, they have come to take Ruby.” Rita told that there was a team of 4-5 people accompanied by police officers in Ruby’s apartment.

“I wasn’t feeling well that time. After hearing this twist in the story, I left for home. When I arrived at the apartment complex, I saw Ruby coming out of the building with an African-American police officer. I approached them to inquire about the situation. The officer assured me that everything was fine. He politely explained that he was assigned the responsibility of taking Ruby to local Women’s Welfare Center. The place is safe with free lodging and food. The center has a team of legal experts to help her get a new job and to claim unemployment compensation till she lands up in new job. Rita also came out of the building with two women. These women escorted Ruby to a marked van parked nearby. The officer wished her well and removed his hat to bid us good bye. The curls on his smooth black head somehow reminded me of the life size picture of Lord Krishna as installed in our ancestral home in Bareilly.

Rita told me everything she heard from the Women’s Center authorities. The center was going to help her get the unemployment arrears for entire year. They also made a deal with the apartment management to waive off her rent and utility bills.

I was glad that everything went well, in fact, it was far better than my expectations.

“O my God, did you notice it?” Rita was surprised, “Do you see where we are standing?”    

“We are in the parking lot, where else?”

“Look carefully. This is the same spot which Ruby pointed to while mentioning about the lord’s vehicle.”

Rita was absolutely right. The vehicles had left but we were still standing at the same spot marked by Ruby as the place for Lord’s arrival to pick her up.

I was confused about entire sequence of events, the parking spot, and looks of the police officer. But I was happy that she didn’t go back to India.