I pay tribute, in some sense, to the journey my parents made: a process of leaving behind, of reconstructing, of moving back and forth, of living such that every voyage is a departure and no destination is ever fully home. Now that I too have rooted myself, as an adult, in two different parts of the world, I can no longer live, wherever I am, without feeling, just as Ashima does in the opening paragraph of the novel, that “something is missing.” This complication, both logistical and existential, has been a choice on my part. And like many of the important choices we make in life, it has also
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