Chapter Ten
Omesh
Omesh crouched over the tandoori oven built into the floor of the kitchen, waiting for the naan to puff up so he could peel it off and stick the other side of the flat bread to the clay wall. It was hot, sweaty work and he had long since abandoned his shirt.
“Omesh, why don’t you take a break,” Prakash offered. Omesh looked up between pulling two pieces of flatbread out of the oven and saw his uncle standing at the doorway. Beyond him on the other side of the counter was Rabia. He nearly didn’t recognize her. She hadn’t gone for the Mohawk as she had mentioned; instead she had opted for short, slender cornrows. Purple cornrows. She smiled and waved.
“Let me just finish,” Omesh said, reaching back into the oven for the last few pieces.
“I’ll shut down the oven. Just b
