He was 12. He had just moved to America. Then his Sikh father was murdered.
Prabhjot’s father always told him that he must go to the temple every week, so here he was this Sunday, just like every Sunday and usually other days of the week, too. Here he was, at the place where he met his friends and ate his favorite Indian foods and paused quietly to pray. Here he was, at the place where his father was killed.