Amriika Read Online Free PDF Page B

we are going to the factories. The young people of this country are against the war and we’re going to stop it. You should join.”
    “But — aren’t they the ones — I mean —” who also demonstrate in the streets and throw stones at the police, Ramji wanted to say. “No — thanks …”
    “Why not?”
    They are not my idea of America, for one thing, he thought; they are not the Morrises and Runymede … if you don’t count the kids at the shopping centre. Instead of that, he declared, flatly: “I support the Americans in Vietnam.”
    “Why?” Shawn leaned forward in his chair now, so Ramji had to pull back nervously. He looked intense, expectant, as though he was about to learn something important.
    Ramji explained. If Vietnam goes, then Cambodia follows, and Laos, and slowly Thailand, Malaysia, and so on, until the whole of Asia becomes one massive godless communist block under China. The domino theory.
    “Where did you hear that?”
    “It’s obvious, isn’t it? Even
Time
says so.” Simple as ABC .
    Shawn emitted a not convincing laugh, then stopped. “Wait a minute, wait a minute. Do you know what
Time
is?” he exclaimed, then stopped. He was stumped. “All right, all right — forget it. You going to the mixer?”
    Neither was in the mood for the mixer that evening in the social lounge, so they shot some pool in the basement and then went out for a stroll on Mass Ave towards Boston.
    It was a pleasant Saturday night, a little past sunset, a cooling breeze gusting along the avenue. Winter will come early, Shawn pronounced, sniffing the air a few times, and Ramji wondered whether to believe him. There were not many people around. Rush week was just over; this was carousing time. Classes began Monday. As they crossed the Harvard Bridge high over the Charles, sounds from a party came to tease them, laughter rippling merrily across the water. They could hear playful, spirited male and female voices; mouth-watering frolicking in a boathouse. They exchanged looks, and Ramji wondered why Shawn was alone with him tonight. Whatever the reason, he was thankful for the company. Straight ahead loomed the tall Prudential Building, a towering glass column glowing in the night. Across the bridge, they stopped for pepper steak subs and milkshakes. The diner was a dingy place, its walls covered entirely with autographed black and white pictures; yes, Shawn said, they most likely had all visited here — actors, politicians, and athletes. Shawn was from the Boston area, and his father owned O’Henry’s Pub in Harvard Square, known for the best hamburgers in town. But the two of them didn’t get along.
    “He’s a racist and a reactionary. He’s refused to pay my fees.”
    He had a younger sister, and an older brother, who was in Vietnam.
    “He’s fighting in the war and you’re against it?”
    “Uh-huh. I can’t wait for him to get back. You know there’s already an antiwar movement among the soldiers in Vietnam? But I guess Pat can’t write all that, the letters are censored.”
    Shawn spoke earnestly but without raising his voice or losing his cool, undeterred by Ramji’s views. Spring had been just great for the antiwar campaign, he said, too bad Ramji missed it. Why do you think Johnson’s not running for president? …
    Ramji said he was against the communists because they were atheists. He explained to Shawn an ancient prophecy he’d heard many times back home: Satan would arise in the east, with a massive army of millions, and proceed to conquer the forces of good in the west. Who had such power in the east except China and Russia? But ultimately, the good would win, the West would triumph …
    Shawn nodded.
    They had been walking heedlessly ever since leaving the diner, the foreigner in the hands of the local. Suddenly, instinctively, Ramji grew alarmed; his steps faltered, he let his voice peter out into silence. The scene around them had transformed into one of an eerie dinginess. Shawn