“Throughout those early years of marriage I watched helplessly as your grandmother smiled less and less,” said Arun, shaking his head. “She didn’t have much to do, after all. I went to office in the morning and came home in the evening, but her?”

Arun sighed.

“How did she cope?” asked Aarush.

“She didn’t,” said Arun. “The US never really suited her. But we did have a group of Indian friends here. Now meeting them, that at least she enjoyed.”

“Oh, like Jeet Uncle, who we met day-before in Fremont?”

“Exactly.”

Arun shifted his pose a little.

“As the months went on we started getting pressure from both my parents and hers to have children. So eventually, we did. By March 1995, just two years after we got married, she was pregnant with twins. A boy and a girl.”

Aarush made an uneasy smile. Arun noticed this.

“Hey, at least I finally bought a bed after it was confirmed.”

“I should hope so,” said Aarush. Arun continued.

“I recall one of our various potlucks with the Indian friends in August. Someone had jokingly asked Sandhya what names she was planning, and so she declared ‘My son is going to be called Ravi’. Everyone laughed. But when that same someone asked about our daughter, she simply shrugged her shoulders and said ‘I haven’t thought about it yet.’ I said nothing.”

“Ugh,” said Aarush, frowning.

“Yeah,” said Arun. “And unfortunately that didn’t change until October, when they were born. First the boy, then after 6 minutes and 25 seconds, the girl.”

“Oh, Dad’s older?” asked Aarush. “See, I didn’t know even that.”

Arun chuckled.

“As soon as your Dad was born Sandhya said ‘Ravi’. But we still didn’t have a name for our daughter, and so I just suggested the first thing that came to mind.”

“Rani,” said Aarush. Arun nodded.

“Sandhya was too tired to argue, so she just let it be. We signed the paperwork, and it was finalized.”

Aarush was now leaning forward, eyes wide open.

“Ravi and Rani,” said Arun. “From even before they were born their mother had unconsciously marked them. One would be her ‘prize’, and the other, well…”

“What were they like as babies?” asked Aarush.

“As different as you can imagine,” said Arun. “Ravi was always crying. You put him down, and he would start. But Rani almost never cried at all. We kept baby monitors in their room, and if they woke up we pretty much only heard Ravi.”

Aarush laughed slowly.

“Was this when you moved to San Jose?”

“Oh, no,” said Arun. “Milpitas. We found a nice 3-bedroom house there, and moved when the twins were three. They started preschool nearby soon after.”

“Ooohhh, what were they like in preschool?”

“About the same, actually,” said Arun. “Ravi immediately started crying when we tried to leave him there, but Rani just quietly sat down as though she owned the joint. It was very interesting to see.”

“I bet,” said Aarush.

“But what was more interesting was Sandhya,” said Arun. “She spotted a ‘Help Wanted: Teacher’s Assistant’ sign on the wall, and seeing the way Ravi was crying she decided to apply. Just to keep an eye on him, she said. Once again, I said nothing, but I thought at least with this she could do something during the day.”

“What if Avva visited India?” said Aarush. “Maybe that would’ve helped.”

“We did actually,” said Arun. “In 2000, before the twins started kindergarten. We went to Bangalore for my father-in-law’s 60th birthday. Do you remember the picture frames in our sitting room? The one with the twins as four-year-olds?”

“Yeah. Oh, that’s when that was taken!”

“Yes.”

Aarush grinned.

“Was Avva happy?”

“Oh, she was over the moon!” said Arun. “At that point this was probably the happiest I’d seen her since our wedding. And one thing that made her even more happy was seeing the kids meet their cousins Amit, Shyam, and Karthik for the first time. They’re all her sisters’ sons, after all.”

“Okay,” said Aarush. “I’ve seen their kid pictures in your house too.”

“Correct,” said Arun. “And interestingly, I could see even back then who the twins preferred. Ravi gravitated towards Shyam, who’s only a year older, and Rani liked to ‘baby’ Karthik, who was two. Amit, the eldest at eight, tried to watch over them and keep them out of trouble.”

“That hasn’t changed,” said Aarush. “Dad still talks to Shyam-pednaana the most. Probably even more than Mum.”

Arun nodded, a pained sort of smile on his face.

“Sandhya was happy, yes, but there was one incident I recall from that trip. Now, when you’re a small kid your accent is very… how do I put this… ‘malleable’. And the twins were no exception. After spending two months surrounded by Indians their American accents had shifted.”

“Woah,” said Aarush. “I can’t imagine Dad with an Indian accent.”

Arun chuckled.

“One day near the end of our visit, Rani went up to her mother to ask for something. I think it was for Dairy Milk, but I don’t recall. But she was talking in this new, Indianized-American accent, and after hearing this Sandhya suddenly barked ‘Why are you talking like that? Talk properly!’ Once again I didn’t say anything, even after seeing the way Rani’s face fell.”

“Becoming a bit of a theme, Thatha.” said Aarush. Arun frowned.

“After that both twins made a conscious effort to retain their American accents. Maybe I should’ve realized it at the time, but I think the comfort of being in Bangalore makes her more… bold.”

“To do what?”

“Well, you’ll see.”

Aarush crossed his arms and scoffed.

“Fine. Then tell me what happened next.”

“The usual kid stuff,” said Arun. “Ravi and Rani both grew, started going through elementary school, and they made some friends. Sandhya continued to work at the preschool.”

“And you?”

“I? I rose through the ranks in my company, and the pay got higher. We’d wanted to move to a better school district for a while, and now we could afford it. So, in 2004, we moved to a big new house in Almaden. San Jose.”

“Aha!” said Aarush, pointing.

“It was an expensive neighborhood back then,” said Arun. “But today it’s one of the most expensive neighborhoods in the country. I sometimes regret selling that house.”

“I think Rani-attha misses it too,” said Aarush. “They were talking about it at Jeet Uncle’s house.”

“True,” said Arun. “But your grandmother was getting worse. I think the bigger house and more isolated neighborhood made her even more lonely than before. Plus it was far away from the preschool, so she had to leave that job. I thought becoming US citizens might help, but unfortunately it didn’t.”

Aarush looked sad. Arun continued.

“But the big turning point came in late-2004, a few months after the twins had started 4th grade. I’ll never forget that night.”

*******

Arun Shivaram sat at his home computer, staring at the email he just got from his boss. He knew what this was about since they were talking about it at the office earlier that day, but he didn’t think it would actually get confirmed.

Arun got up, stretched, and stared out the window at the dark, frosty Silicon Valley night. They’d just moved to this house, he thought. He and Sandhya are both going to be American citizens soon. He didn’t want to do this, but Sandhya will. And he had to tell her. She’s his wife, he shouldn’t keep things from her.

As if on cue, Sandhya walked into the room a few minutes later. She looked at her husband staring out the window, and immediately knew something was up.

“What happened?”

Arun turned around. He hesitated.

“Well… I just got an email.”

“And…?”

“The office, they… um… ”

Arun nervously rubbed the back of his head while Sandhya stood there impatiently looking at him.

“We need to sleep, Arun. The kids have school tomorrow. You have office.”

Arun took a deep breath.

“They’ve offered to transfer me.”

Sandhya’s eyes widened.

“To the Bangalore office?”

Arun slowly nodded. Sandhya seemed to be trying hard to contain a smile.

“You told them you’ll take it, right?”

“I-I didn’t say anything… er, yet.”

Sandhya turned around to open up a drawer.

“We should go.”

Arun looked at his wife. He knew she was miserable here. But he didn’t want to leave.

“But what about the kids? They have friends here, and they’re quite Americanized. How will they adjust?”

“They will adjust,” said Sandhya, without looking up. “And they will make new friends. We will teach them their own culture.”

Sandhya turned around, now holding a nightgown.

“What do these Americans have? No culture, nothing! At least in India the kids can learn their own culture, meet with their cousins, and have friends who aren’t racist.”

“That was once!” said Arun. “And how do you even know she was racist? That check-out girl could’ve just been having a bad day.”

“She was racist and you know it,” said Sandhya. “All these white people are. Superiority complex, that’s what it is.”

Arun buried his face into his hand. He knew this would happen. Sandhya opened the bathroom door.

“You’re taking that transfer, Arun. And we’re moving back to Bangalore. I've missed so many of my cousins’ weddings...”

She slammed the bathroom door behind her. Arun just stared.

He didn’t want to leave.


Just outside the room sat a pair of 9-year-olds, a boy and a girl. They were supposed to be asleep, but the girl heard yelling and insisted they come out and listen. But now she seemed to be regretting it.

“I don’t wanna move to India,” said the girl. The boy’s face still had a look of shock.

“Ravi,” said the girl. At the sound of his name Ravi snapped out of it.

“What?”

“I don’t wanna move to India!”

Ravi looked at his sister. She seemed to be holding back tears.

“No, Rani, don’t cry. Maybe it won’t be so bad.”

“But Shyam said that the teachers are strict there,” said Rani, tears trickling down her cheeks now. “He said they hit the kids with sticks.”

Ravi looked down. Shyam did tell them that.

“And we just moved here,” said Rani. “I like this new house!”

Ravi didn’t know what to say. All he could do was hug his sister as she started sobbing harder.

“I don’t wanna move to India…”

*******

Aarush’s eyes were wide with shock.

“Wait, they were HUGGING?”

Arun looked at him, now a bit confused.

“That’s what you’re surprised with?”

“Well yeah,” said Aarush. “They don’t do that anymore. And how do you even know the twins were listening in the hallway?”

“I didn’t,” said Arun. “Rani told me that part years later.”

Aarush nodded. Then he slowly looked up at his grandfather.

“I didn’t know you never wanted to leave the US.”

Arun sighed.

“I think I told you this before. I’m 73, I own multiple properties in Bangalore including a house that we constructed, but I still consider the Bay Area to be home.”

“Even now?”

Arun looked at his grandson.

“Even now.”