Hello, fellow frozen immigrants

Went to a local Peri-Peri restaurant and, as we do in Chicagoland, found the proprieters to be desi boys. The music was very 1970s-1980s Bollywood. ‘Next time I come, we’ll have a singalong,’ I promised. In my teens and twenties, I didn’t LOOK at boys; now that I am securely middle-aged, I have earned the liberty to have singalongs. Especially with boys who could be my children, had I married at the Normal Desi age.

‘Why do you listen to such old people music?’ I asked them. Mystery solved. They were Karachiites whose families had moved to Malawi, until just 3 years ago. Their parents are basically me frozen in the 1980s.

Literally, in fact. We introduced ourselves. Kid says, ‘Oh, right; my mom’s name is Shabana.’

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