As the train rattled across the dusty Indian countryside, Ramu wondered what awaited him in the distant land of East Africa. Leaving behind his home, family, and the only life he had ever known, Ramu’s heart was heavy with both excitement and apprehension. As the train chugged along, Ramu’s mind was filled with memories of his family, the vibrant markets of his hometown, and the warmth of his hometown, and the warmth of his community. But he knew he had to leave. His family’s land had been seized by the British colonizers, and with no means of income, Ramu had signed up to work on the railways in East Africa. 

Months passed by as Ramu toiled under the scorching sun, laying tracks and hauling heavy machinery. But he was determined to provide for his family back home, sending every penny he could spare. He received letters from his family, filled with news of weddings, births, and deaths, and Ramu felt a pang of homesickness. 

One day, as he was working on a remote stretch of the railway line, he heard commotion. A group of lions had attacked a nearby village, and the villagers were in a state of panic. Without a second thought, Ramu ran towards the village, his heart pounding. He saw the lions circling a woman, her eyes wide with fear. Ramu picked up a nearby stick and charged at the lions, yelling at the top of his voice. The lions fled, and Ramu helped the woman to safety.

As the news of Ramu’s heroic act spread throughout the railway camps and nearby villages, he became somewhat of a local celebrity. People would stop him on the street to shake his hand, and children would ask for his autograph. Ramu felt both proud and embarrassed by the attention, but he also felt a sense of belonging in this new land. 

But as time passed, Ramu began to feel the weight of his isolation. He missed his family, his culture, and his home. He longed for the familiar smells and tastes of his mother’s cooking, the sound of his father’s voice, and the laughter of his wife's voice .

As Ramu sat in his makeshift hut one evening, he heard a knock on the door. It was his supervisor, Mr.Patel. “Ramu, we need you to work an extra shift tomorrow. The tracks need to be laid by the end of the week," Mr. Patel said sternly.

Ramu nodded, feeling exhausted but knowing he had to do whatever it took to earn a living. "Yes, sir. I'll be there," he replied.

After Mr. Patel left, Ramu slumped onto his bed, feeling defeated. He missed his family so much, and the thought of working even longer hours made him feel like he was never going to see them again.

The next day, as Ramu was working on the tracks, he heard a group of men speaking in Swahili. He didn't understand the language, but he could sense that they were talking about him. He felt self-conscious and wondered if they were discussing his work ethic or his appearance.

Suddenly, one of the men approached him. "Hey, you. Indian man. What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone aggressive.

Ramu tried to explain that he was working on the railways, but the man wasn't satisfied. Ramu had heard of the tensions between the East African and the Indian laborers thus making him worry about what the man had to say. “ You come here and take our jobs. You think you're better than us? You're nothing but a lowly laborer," the man spat.

Ramu felt his heart race, and he wondered if this was the kind of treatment he could expect in this new land. But before he could respond, another man stepped in. "Leave him alone, Kibwe. He's just trying to make a living like the rest of us," the man said firmly.

Ramu felt a sense of relief wash over him as the men dispersed. He realized that not everyone in this new land was hostile towards him, and he felt a glimmer of hope.

As he lay in bed that night, Ramu thought about the encounter. He realized that he needed to find a way to connect with the people around him, to learn their language and their customs. He missed his family terribly, but he knew that he had to make a life for himself in this new land.

Over time, Ramu's migration had a great effect on his family back in India. With the money he sent home, they were able to survive and even thrive. They built a new home on a smaller piece of land and started a small business selling spices at the local market. Ramu's wife gave birth to their third child, a son whom they named after Ramu.

And so, Ramu continued to work on the railways, sending money back home and making new friends in East Africa. He knew that his family would always be a part of him, but he also knew that he had to keep moving forward, for himself and for the new home he had created.