An Ominous Path

"I'm not a refugee. I am an immigrant."

"I don't doubt that, Janab. However, it remains to be seen if you are a legal one", said officer Rashid without according much attention to the indignation palpable in Devendra's assertion.

In his hand was the detainee's passport with a green front cover bearing the Emblem of Nepal. He flipped through an initial couple of pages to land on the one where the Immigrant Visa granted to Devendra Rajan by the Islamic Republic of Hindustan was stamped. Without shifting his gaze, Rashid drew a cell phone from the pocket of his khaki-colored trouser and scanned the Quick Response Code printed on the top left corner of the page adjacent to the Crescent and solitary Star. The application almost immediately loaded the visa details, which were identical in every sense to the ones in the passport. Allowing himself a fleeting smile, he put down the booklet and leaned back in his chair. With a penetrating stare, he observed the individual sitting in front of him across the table in the room, which resembled the inside of a shipping container, but for the lights, air conditioning, and camera. He took note of Devendra's tall but slender frame concealed in an azure kameez and white shalwar. With his bushy beard and lush mane, he could have easily passed as a Pashtun if not for the red Raksha Sutra tied around his wrist.

"So, Mr. Devendra Rajan, External Consultant, Bank of Hindustan, Shahjahanabad, I understand that you have been around for a while." the officer broke the silence which had engulfed the room.

"5 years and four months, to be precise. Eight more months and I will be eligible to apply for citizenship", replied Devendra promptly as if he had been keeping a count of each day spent in the country.

"And what convinced you to settle in this holy land? Notwithstanding the fact that you have done quite well for yourself, a practicing Sanatani in an Islamic state is always out of place, I reckon."

"What makes you think I am a man of faith?"

"Well, that piece of thread is a giveaway.", Rashid retorted, pointing at his right wrist.

Devendra smirked as he undid the knot and unwound the thread from his wrist.

"I wear this cause my mother made me promise, but a totem cannot be my identity. My loyalty lies with the land which has given me the opportunity to reap the rewards of my labor, and if I ever find my religion as an impediment to realizing the success I seek, I will forsake my foreskin without batting an eyelid. But I completely understand your circumspection, and you do deserve a lengthy oration from me wherein I illustrate my allegiance to the Republic. Still, I think I will save it for my Permanent Residency interview."

If the passionate reply from Devendra was intended to elicit a conciliatory response from the officer, it had failed.

Maintaining a stoic expression, he continued paying exclusive attention to Devendra. Then, in an abrupt swift motion, his hand reached out to activate the intercom placed on the table, and he spoke into the microphone curtly.

"Please bring in artifact EA1."

Within seconds, a khaki-clad staff donning a green beret walked in to place a paperback in front of Rashid. He stole a glance at his superior and exited the room on receiving a gentle nod from him.

"Are you aware of this publication?" he queried Devendra, sliding the book to his side of the table.

Devendra was transfixed by the sight of the saffron cover which had on it printed, in bold and italics, the title - 'Swarnim Bharat: Annihilation and Resurgence.'

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"Though I haven't read it completely, I find your book more like a work of fiction than anything else.", the teenage boy declared to his father. Sitting under the asbestos sheets that formed the bus station's roof, he eagerly awaited the response. His father, meanwhile, was diligently cleaning his glasses with the hem of his shirt.