The civil servant looks back at the file and says flatly, as if reading, “No children?” and then, looking directly up at Somer, “No babies?”
Her cheeks flush with familiar shame in this country where fertility is so celebrated, where every woman has a child on each hip. She shakes her head. After a couple more exchanges with Krishnan, the civil servant tells them to come back in the morning for an update on their case. K
rishnan takes her arm and leads her out of the building.
“What was that about?” she says once they are outside.
“Nothing,” he says. “Indian bureaucracy. Everything is like this here.”
He flags a taxi
“What do you mean ‘like this’? What happened back there? They kept us waiting an hour, that guy clearly hadn’t even read our file, and then he barely even talks to me!”
“That’s because you’re—”
“I’m what?” she snaps at him.
“Look, things work differently here. I know how to handle this, just trust me. You can’t come here with your American ideas—”
“I didn’t come here with anything.”
She slams the taxicab door and feels the whole car reverberate.

Autore: Shilpi Somaya Gowda