by Sara Siddiqui Chansarkar

We wanted to wash our hair with shampoo, not with gram flour paste, the grains of which clung like lice eggs. We wanted pads we saw in ads on neighbors’ TVs, not squares cut from rags. We wanted whole school uniforms, not shoes and socks holed like sieves. We wanted raincoats, not plastic sheets held together with rusted pins. We wanted individual bicycles, not another body on the rear carrier. We wanted many things but most of all we wanted a full bun and a full egg in our lunchboxes, not half meals that wakened the beast, growling for more.

Sara Siddiqui Chansarkar is an Indian American writer. Born to a middle-class family in India, she later migrated to the USA. Her work has appeared in Reflex Press, Flash Fiction Online, Kahini, and elsewhere. She has been highly commended in National Flash Microfiction Competition, shortlisted in SmokeLong Quarterly Micro Contest, shortlisted in Bath Flash Fiction Festival. She is currently an editor at Janus Literary and a Submissions Editor at SmokeLong Quarterly. Her debut flash fiction collection Morsels of Purple is available for purchase on Amazon and in local bookstores. More at Reach her @PunyFingers

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