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b9c8a5d Push away the past, that vessel in which all emotions curdle to regret. fiction immigrant-experience indian-authors wisdom-quotes mothers-and-daughters novel Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni
4b02adf It's easier to surrender to confinement. immigrant-experience surrender Jhumpa Lahiri
6acd669 Ebb and flow, ebb and flow, our lives. Is that why we're fascinated by the steadfastness of stars? The water reaches my calves. I begin the story of the Pleiades, women transformed into birds so Swift and bright that no man could snare them. fiction indian-american divakaruni immigrant-experience indian-authors women-s-fiction mothers-and-daughters novel Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni
e57d1fe My mother clutches at the collar of my shirt. I rub her back and feel her tears on my neck. It's been decades since our bodies have been this close. It's an odd sensation, like a torn ligament knitting itself back, lumpy and imperfect, usable as long as we know not to push it too hard. india love novel-in-stories women-s-books indian-american divakaruni immigrant-experience mothers-and-daughters novel Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni
fb43a76 Asif Ali maneuvers the gleaming Mercedes down the labyrinthine lanes of Old Kolkata with consummate skill, but his passengers do not notice how smoothly he avoids potholes, cows and beggars, how skilfully he sails through aging yellow lights to get the Bose family to their destination on time. This disappoints Asif only a little. In his six years of chauffeuring the rich and callous, he has realized that, to them, servants are invisible. family-relationships india immigrant-experience literary-fiction usa suspense Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni
db69533 She put on some music. Drum and flute, I think. She played it soft, because it was dreadfully late, a time when all good men and women, or at least the practical ones, had gone to bed. Then she danced for me. india fiction immigrant-experience indian-authors womens-fiction mothers-and-daughters Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni
5aaa8c4 Bela had thought she knew what love felt like, but when she saw Sanjay at the airport after six long months, her heart gave a great, hurtful lurch, as though it were trying to leap out of her body to meet him. This, she thought. This is it. But it was only part of the truth. She would learn over the next years that love can feel a lot of different ways, and sometimes it can hurt a lot more. india indian-american indian-fiction divakaruni immigrant-experience mothers-and-daughters novel Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni
acf02dc "Would you like to come in?" I said. My hands were sweaty. Inside my chest an ocean heaved and crashed and heaved again. "I would," he said. I saw his Adam's apple jerk as he swallowed. "Thank you." I was distracted by that thank you. We had moved past the language of formality long ago. It was strange to relearn it with each other." fiction divakaruni immigrant-experience immigrant-fiction indian-authors love-mothers-and-daughters indian women-s-fiction mothers-and-daughters novel Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni