Blue Jasmine Read Online Free PDF

Mommy would try to speak to me in English the whole time, so that I would become more comfortable with the language by the timeschool started. Mommy had studied English at university, and she sounded first-class to me. She laughed when I told her. “Well, maybe second-class, now, but we will both be speaking English fluently in a few months, wait and see.”
    In the supermarket checkout line no one brought cotton bags from home because they all got as many sturdy brown bags or plastic bags as they wanted. “Dadima would love this store,” I said to Mommy one day. The day was hot, but the bus we were riding in was air-conditioned.
    â€œShe would. So many things to choose from!”
    â€œMore than that, think how happy she would be to get all these crisp paper bags. She always uses flimsy paper bags over and over again until they fall apart.”
    â€œShe might buy more groceries just so she could get more bags,” Mommy said.
    â€œI think she might.”
    We reached our stop, and while we walked to our house I said to Mommy, “Do you think someday we’ll get a car too? Then we won’t have to carry all the heavy stuff on the bus.”
    â€œWe don’t need a car. In India we bought fresh fruits and vegetables every day and we didn’t need a car. Here we shop once a week so we don’t need a car at all.”
    Mommy was right. We didn’t need a car, but I wanted one like everyone else.
    ***
    After our first four weeks in Iowa City, all the new things that I had found so fascinating in the beginning were not fascinating anymore. The machines did the work, but they couldn’t talk to us. The only person I could talk to all day was Mommy. Pappa was busy with his work, and at night Mela wanted to play with him; by the time Mela went to sleep, Pappa was tired and went to bed.
    I noticed that the days that had stretched out like a sari when we first arrived were getting shorter, as if someone were clipping a little off bit by bit. I wondered how short the days would become before they became long again. School had already started in India. Here school was starting in two weeks, but it was hard to wait that long with nothing to do. Sometimes in the middle of the afternoon I lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling and walls. They were smooth and clean, as if someone had just finished painting them, and there was never anything interesting to spot.
    In India there were cracks on the ceilings and paint peeling on the walls, making rivers, puddles, and whatever else you could imagine. Raju and I used to play a game called Find What I See. If I saw a patch of wall where paint had peeled off in the shape of a bird, I’d say, “I see a bird,” and then he had to find it. Sometimes a row of ants marched along the wall and sometimes a stubborn lizard hung on the ceiling. I didn’t like lizards, with their glassy eyes.
    The tiles in our house in India were beige with lots ofbrown flecks and a few gold ones, which sparkled in the sunlight. On hot summer afternoons Raju and I loved to search for all the gold flecks, pretending they were made out of real gold. The more each of us found, the richer we were. Here the floors were covered in a plain tan carpet, and there were no gold flecks to count.
    â€œMommy, are you happy here? Do you wish we were in India?” I asked her one evening while she was kneading dough. She paused.
    â€œWhy do you ask?”
    I shrugged my shoulders.
    â€œIt’s different, but I like it. Do you like it?” she said.
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œIt’s a big change for you, but give it a chance. Once school starts and you make friends, it will be better,” she said, returning to her work.
    I looked outside and saw that the sun was still bright. “Is it okay if Mela and I walk to the park? We’ll be back in an hour,” I said.
    The park was only three streets down, and around the corner. When we’d