Racism is a deadly virus. A global scourge that has no known cures yet. Its manifestations are ugly, even fatal. And who would know that better in independent India than a native of the Northeast—that part which is still mysterious and exotic for many of their countrymen. It’s not familiarity which breeds contempt here—it’s the lack of a capacity to be familial. An outright refusal by “mainland India” to see beyond its nose, to truly understand and appreciate anything beyond what it already thinks and knows. Here, they are presented with a diverse people, with diverse cultures, languages and food habits, with one commonality: that for all of them, their home is not a remote corner of a huge country, but the centre of their universe.