“The newspaper? Are you for real, Ashira? Why are you even reading this? They don’t know what they’re talking about.”
The headline is a blur, text darting across the page like millions of scurrying ants. I take a deep breath, squeeze my eyes shut, and then open them again, forcing myself to focus.
… a wave of political unrest… shockwaves to the nation… what began as localized demonstrations in the Rajasthan region has now snowballed….
My heart rate picks up. The radical party, the terrorists that are trying to seize power, the ones Ima reassured me were far away in the north of the country… is it them? What does this mean for my family?
I skim further, frantic. Government’s response in the north, Jammu, Kashmir, no, no, no. I want to hear about the capital, the major cities, about what’s happening near my home. My parents. My siblings. My baby sister.
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