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bengalis and punjabis

road to singapore

time travels on mount sophia

when i first came to singapore i remember getting a strange response almost every time i said i am bengali. “bengali?” would come the reply quickly and with a nod that said the person had placed me in a slot in his or her mind. then a hand would go up and make a little circular motion around the head. the first time this happened, i frowned and looked lost. “babu, right? singh?? turban?” i gawked. had a bengali just…

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