August 1988

“You must be Ruh-JAH-nee! Welcome!” said the enthusiastic Preschool principal.

Confusion. Dismay.

Amma sighs, whispering through her feigned smile, “It seems this is what they will call you…”

They? Who they?

“The Americans. Just go along.”

…but I’m American… and I’m RUH-juh-nee… the way I have always been. The way you made me.

“It’s different now.”


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