I visited New York again a couple of summers later, this time with both of my parents. Kavi brought me to an Indian place for lunch on Murray Hill (he informed me it’s actually Curry Hill), and then we went to peruse Strand Book Store. I was holding a pile of books that I wanted to buy when I got a phone call from an unknown number. The news: you’re accepted to medical school. I was floored.
(Slightly pertinent background here: I had applied to medical school because it was ~the plan~ and my father’s dream for me, but I didn’t think it was the career I wanted, and after not hearing back from schools for so long, I assumed I conveniently didn’t get in)
And there was Kavi. After making sure nothing tragic had happened, he calmed me down and helped me think rationally. We discussed options, the gravity of the decision, and ultimately how to tell my parents that I wasn’t going to accept the offer. This decision was one of those forks in the road of life, and Kavi helped me navigate through it.
On the way out of Strand, I had to pare down my book selections. I put back a copy of Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children – “Oh of course the brown man’s the first to go.”