Breaking the Bow: Speculative Fiction Inspired by the Ramayana Read Online Free PDF Page A

of Indians—especiallyrich ones—used family connections and bribery to push their immigration paper work to the front of the line. At the same time, as all manufacturing shifted to India, many remaining Indian Americans began to monopolize the lucrative import business. There were media exposes and protests against the corruption but it didn’t do much to stop the gradual transfer of wealth to this one community.Rich Indians began to segregate themselves in clusters of premium, gated high-rise apartment complexes that mirrored those in suburban Delhi and Mumbai. Ma remembers the early stories about the backlash attacks, but it was always written off as a wealth and disparity issue. Of course Indians were subject to violent crime, the media reported at the time, they had the money and America was in economicfreefall.
    About twenty years ago, India shut down its borders to preserve quality of life. That’s when it got real bad for any Indians left in America. There were bombings and fires at the gated communities in New Jersey, the center of Indian wealth, driving residents out into the streets where mobs were waiting them. It wasn’t much better anywhere else, even for my parents who never had enoughto be considered even middle class. It’s been five years since the Backlash Laws, but it’s ignorants like Anita that screw it up for everyone. If only she knew that, even though I’m Indian, I probably have less of a chance than her of ever ending up there—especially if I want to help my mother.
    I sneak a peek up at the office again and see that they’re staring out the windows, pointing to whereI am hiding. Dammit dammit dammit. I hear them come onto the balcony outside of Val’s office.
    “There’s the disfigurement room,” Val says. “You take clients in there for the role play, and then a hatch leads you back down.”
    “I know the DFR in and out, Val,” Anita says. “I know I could do a better Surpanakha than she does.”
    I hear their footsteps moving towards the spiral staircase thatleads onto the floor. As they wind down, I take the opportunity to slip into the room and disappear.
    At the kidney center, my mother’s dialysis machine beeped louder and louder, like the UV alarm at our apartment on particularly bad days making sure we don’t even open the skylights. After the earthquakes of 2020, anyone on the West Coast who didn’t reverse ended up somewhere in the GreaterVegas area—even though the neon gas leaks have destroyed the ozone layer, making it practically impossible to go outside without serious protection.
    The nurse actually pounded on the machine with her fist to make it work. “Does that usually help?” I asked her. She just pounded it again, making my mother jump. “Hello? Does that fix it?” I said. The nurse looked Mexican, or maybe Filipino. It’shard to tell because everyone’s so mixed. Lately, there’s been a huge influx again from Mexico, the Border gangs have been especially active in bringing in new people, and pulling strings to get them into jobs. Jobs that they are not qualified to do. I glared at the nurse, who looked like she was nineteen years old. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
    “Don’t yell at her. It’s not her fault,” mymother said patiently, smiling at the nurse. “Que esta bien.”
    The nurse pounded the machine again and the beeping stopped, but then the machine powered down, all the lights and numbers disappearing.
    “What happened?” I said, getting up. “Wait, what’s going on? It can’t just stop. It’s…she’ll…that’s not good. Ma? Ma, are you okay?”
    After the nurses revived my mother from fainting, the othermachine was freed up and the same nurse who broke the first machine hooked her into that one.
    “Don’t look so worried, Sapna,” Ma said.
    “How old do you think these machines are anyway? Do you know what they can do in India now? They have a regulator that they can inject into your bloodstream that replaces