A strong smell of garlic and fried onions hit our nostrils as Kumud and I walked into the apartment. Ruby was cooking something spicy in the kitchen. She wore a canary yellow pajama and a blue de'collete' top which displayed her fine tan lines, thanks to California sun. The cut was so low one could almost see her cleavage reaching her navel. With utmost discomfort, I tried to keep my eyes off the sight that would have gandhiji second thoughts. My first days in America always brought a new episode of culture shock. She brought coffee for us and started speaking to Kumud ignoring my presence. I sat quietly trying not to look at the grand canyon between her silicon valleys and jerked my head from time to time chasing away prurient thoughts. I had a feeling that she was enjoying my almost-no-visible attention. 'Ruby, meet John',said Kumud, 'he just arrived in California few days ago'. 'He met your mom'. he added. She glanced at me for a second and as if my guy next door looks offended her, she looked back to Kumud and asked , 'How are things in Nepal?' I cleared my throat and began to speak what most Nepalese do when they are abroad. Bungled system...maoists...declining capital investment and all other things I barely remember now. 'Know what John? I do not like the attitude of Nepalese people' she addressed me for the first time. Very true!!....I honestly did not like her attitude. 'They are so prude, so conservative, so chauvinistic, do not respect emotional and cultural freedom....'she went on ranting. There were other adjectives too which I would not want to pen down. She also told me that returning to Nepal was the last thing in her mind and she had a hispanic beau who had looks that gave Benicio Del Toro run for money. She worked in a Nepalese artifact store in bay area owned by my aunt and was completely unaware of it. 'Sheetal is a b@#$%' she cursed my dear aunt, ' I am only there cos she is helping me get my green card', she said as if it were a great secret. My aunt was the humblest woman on earth who in no time would fly to nepal just to put a bhaitika on my dad's forehead. Appalled by her disrespect, I tried to leave and hurriedly handed over a package containing chura, tika and a pair of salwar her mom had sent. I was almost certain she would throw it back at me had she known what was inside. I walked outside with heavy feet. 'Adios senorita', I said under my breath, I would never see Ruby again. Driving back to santa clara with kumud, I recalled some malcontented nepalese-hating american wannabes in Nepal who were brought up in plethora of affluence. I seriously would not mind them displaying the attitude alike Ruby. But Ruby was raised with humilty in Nepal. All her folks back hom respected moral values as all other middle class people do. She had found a wrong person to pile up her grudges...a proud Nepali. I was wondering why she would want to be at her international best the moment she boarded an aircraft. I admit things are not right back home, but it does not change ourselves from being what we are does it?