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16 Priya had thought about telling her the story Ama had told a hundred
times, about how the gods came to Earth in different forms, and how
Brahma had once come to live amongst the people as a cow. Because of
that, Hindus do not eat beef, fearing they might harm a god in disguise.
She smiled as she remembered waiting in dusty traffic jams in Delhi, all
because a cow had decided to nap in the road, and no one would disturb it.
17 But when Priya had looked at the girl’s big, blue, wondering eyes in the
cafeteria, she decided Lindsay wouldn’t understand the story about Brahma
and the cow. So she had mumbled an excuse and hurried away from the
food line.

18 She couldn’t be Indian anymore and she didn’t know how to be
American. She didn’t fit anywhere.

19 “I had some green beans and salad,” she said, looking down.
20 Her mother studied her closely, then glanced at the stove. “Time to test
the syrup, chicaree.”

21 Leaving the crumbly dough to her mother, Priya dribbled a tiny drop of
syrup from the pot onto her finger, then pressed her finger and thumb
together and slowly pulled them apart.

22 “It’s ready, Mummy,” she said, seeing the syrup form a threadlike string
between her fingers.
23 Her mother nodded and was quiet.

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