I stared at my laptop and the words came tumbling out like passengers at a train station.
Pale skinned soldiers came and plundered the land, destroyed our lives and we are still in an endless cycle of generational trauma.
"How’s that I asked"? That’s three obstacles.
They enslaved the locals, partitioned the land up arbitrarily, dividing families and hearts. Three more.
My grandmother was given five minutes to throw valuables into sheets before running to catch the last train to Hyderabad.
They could see soldiers in the distance with guns through the locomotive’s smoke stack.
The family entered a new city, homeless, penniless and terrified.
Sakina wondered if that was enough conflict for the development of the story arc.
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