BooksBarbecue
Back Passage West
Chapters (59)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. Cast of Characters
  5. Part One
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. Letters
  14. Part Two
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. Letters
  26. Part Three
  27. 18
  28. 19
  29. 20
  30. 21
  31. 22
  32. 23
  33. Letters
  34. Part Four
  35. 24
  36. 25
  37. 26
  38. 27
  39. 28
  40. Letters
  41. Part Five
  42. 29
  43. 30
  44. 31
  45. 32
  46. 33
  47. 34
  48. 35
  49. 36
  50. 37
  51. 38
  52. 39
  53. 40
  54. 41
  55. Epilogue
  56. Acknowledgments
  57. About the Author
  58. Also by Rishi Reddi
  59. About the Publisher

Just this morning, I received a telegram from home saying that my wife has given birth to a boy. While you and I were together in Hong Kong and on board the ship, I did not know the happy news that I was to be a father. It seems my son is a large and healthy boy. He has not yet been given a name, and being a devout Hindu, my uncle will insist on waiting the proper amout of time before holding the naming ceremony.

Did I tell you the name of my wife, bhai-ji? It is Padma. I neglected to tell you during all that time we were together. Now I have such a strange feeling, both happiness and homesickness together, and everything seems half-half, broken and split inside. Think of this letter as if I am putting a sweet in your mouth as we do at home, telling you of good news.

Bhai-ji, when I feel discouraged here, I remember the night we walked to the border of the cantonment in Hong Kong, near your old army posting. We dared to drink with the British officers—served by those local women, do you remember?—and how the Englishmen laughed at your jokes.

From the hand of your brother,

Ram Singh

25 December 1913

Ram, my brother,

Many thanks for the money, but you did not need to return it. I am much relieved to hear that Ishwar has recovered. It is better that he returned home. We both know that life is not always easy here. I am happy to learn that you are settled in a good place. But it is a shame that you did not go to the real Hindu Alley in Astoria, near you, in Oregon. Have you heard what they say of that place? Mutton and chicken cooked every day, all the whiskey you desire, the North Country girls who come for love? I wish to go myself and enjoy life there for a while—but perhaps your lumber town is similar and you are too shy and respectable to tell me the truth.

Ram, do not be such a naive boy. You are married and have family obligations—you must become more worldly in your outlook. You feel suspicious of all those people in Hambelton, but they are just as you are, making a living here and sending money home. They are no different.