Silently Falling in Love: Race (THE EDITED VERSION)

Chapter 1 - College

Anjali September 1989:

Even though I was on an all-girls' floor I rushed across the hall in my towel and closed my dorm room door and sat on my twin bed on the right side of the room. Getting used to dorm living where we shared a public bathroom would be a challenge. I dried my hair as I looked at the sun shining through the window; it made me smile. This was the room I'd be spending my freshman year in. I pinched myself, I still couldn't believe I was at Stanford.

My roommate, Alison Whitaker, was out, and I still had an hour before my mom and dad came back from the hotel. We'd spent the morning setting up the room, and they had spent the afternoon resting while I collected my books for the semester. If it hadn't been for my mom, I wouldn't be here. I owed it to her for convincing my dad to let me come to Stanford. The conversation we'd had six months ago would forever be etched in my mind.

"I did something behind you and papa's back," I confessed.

"I figured that," my mom said. "Mind telling me what you did?"

I took a deep breath, "I applied to Stanford," I gushed.

"In California?" my mom asked.

"Yes." I replied.

"And?" my mom said, not making this easy for me.

"I got in with a scholarship, and I want to go," I confessed close to tears.

As I sat next to my mom, I grabbed her hand. "Mom, I know I went behind your back even though you told me to only apply to schools on the East Coast, but I want to experience something different. Please Mom, understand how much I want this. I know you and Dad don't want me to go far away from home, but I feel like... I feel like... I need to experience California. It's like it's calling me. And Stanford is a great college If I don't like it, I can always come back. Please mom, I'm so sorry for going behind your back, but it's something I had to do," I confessed all of my inner thoughts tumbling out of my inexperienced mouth.

My mom ran her hand up and down my back calming me as the tears fell from my eyes.

"Do you even know why your dad and I want you to stay close to home?"

"Because you love me," I sobbed.

"No. We had no choice but to leave our homes, our families to find a better future. We knew we could provide our future kids a better future here in the US and that's why we left everything we knew. Which was already difficult for us since our own parents had to leave Pakistan because of the partition. Our parents left the only home they knew to keep us safe. And, then we left because we had limited the opportunities in India."

I looked at my mom as the tears rolled from her eyes.

I hugged her.

"Don't you understand for two generations we've been on the move? We want to stay in one place and enjoy our family without having to run for safety or for opportunity. That's why we want you close to home."

"I know our history, Mom," I confessed, "but, I have this thing running through me I need to be free; I need to spread my wings and experience things. I just feel... I don't know what I feel, but something is pulling me to California. I belong there. I don't know why, but I feel like I need to go there."

"No matter how much I try to raise you with Indian values, the American values have seeped into you haven't they?" My mother asked.

I didn't respond. I didn't know what was Indian and what was American. I just knew what I felt. I didn't know where it came from.