My Name Is Khan Monologues

An Indian Muslim man with Asperger's syndrome takes a challenge to speak to the President of the United States seriously and embarks on a cross-country journey.

Good people. Bad people. No other difference.

My name is Khan, and I am not a terrorist.

Sameer Rathod Khan, my son. Weight 56 kilogram, blood group O positive. Sameer loved Xbox and soccer. He loved his soccer shoes so much that he would sleep in them. That was the only bad habit he had.

Sam was six years old when I married his mother. Sameer was a good son. He did not mind sharing his mom's love with me. But I couldn't be such a good dad to him. Other dads sense their children's unsaid needs and fulfill them. But I can't sense unexpressed feelings. So I couldn't fulfill them. But, but, Sam never complained. He never complained.

Sam had one more bad habit. He always hid bad news from us. He would never tell me when my favorite team Manchester United lost. Never. Unless we had a bet. Then he would tell me. The I would have to give him his favorite mint chocolate-chip ice cream. Two scoops. Two scoops always.

Two scoops. On 27th November 2007, he was killed.

He was 13 years, nine months and four days old. Sameer was not only my son, he was my dearest friend. Actually, my... my only friend. My only best friend.

Can I get hug please? Please?

Oh no, no, I'm not a terrorist. No. And this is my son

He was not a terrorist either.

Yes, let's go home. Let's go home. Let's go home.

Goodbye.