One guy calls me Pakistani after knowing my family migrated from Punjab’s Pakistan during partition. He says that yesterday I must have been a happy man, afterall Pakistan won the cricket match. I ask him if he had similar thoughts about the bengali friends he had, who came from East Bengal in East Pakistan — he has not heard of it. I ask him East Pakistan, 1971 war, he doesn’t know about it. I asked him 1947 partitioning of India, he tells me he never loved history. And then, as if forgiving me of my sins, he calls me an immigrant.
I have faced this situation at least two dozen times and yet I can’t learn to live with it. It just gets worse.
These are the young Indians who aspire to change the world.