Trans-Atlantic flights have a tendency to make me overly reflective. On my way here, I am by default, excited. On my way back, I am by default, lost.
Each time, I have been able to successfully turn on my Indian mode. This Clark Kent to Superman conversion feature allowed me in the last few years to be rude, loud and ill-mannered. It allowed me an uncanny ability to form a queue that resembled a swarm. I could embark and disembark any public transport with ease. It gave me immense calm when everything was late or did not work like it was meant to be. It helped me digest the mediocre. It even clamped my nose in any public restroom and helped me understand why it would always take 5 hours to cover 200 odd kilometers of National Highways.
However, this time, when I ripped apart my shirt in an obscure phone booth, I ended up tearing a perfectly good shirt. My Indian conversion had vanished. Of all my abilities, I was only left with my ability to drive a car on Indian roads. For this, I am extremely relieved.
For everything else, I am indifferent. The few odd weeks I was here, I had decided to be indifferent and stick out like a sore thumb. Even if, that meant being an outsider, in a city I call my own.
Interestingly, my parents, my friends and the people that I met here were increasingly making me their own. I had no problems sliding into their cracks of their hearts. They had no issues warming up fuzzy feelings inside me. My mom depleted half of Nashik’s fish supply to meet dietary demands. Dad cringingly allowed me to rev a small engine of his car far beyond he ever did. My friends, despite their marriages, cracked the same jokes which I had so forgotten, mostly at wee hours of the night. They reiterated what it is like to belong. In a land that I always belonged. Nashik’s summer coldness enveloped around me every evening that I stepped out.
Yet, I find myself headed west. Traveling 8000 miles west to be a misfit, again? Back to the land where I could earn my monthly wages doing what I like but then wash my own dishes. It does make sense, but you would have to think like a materialistic, selfish and quiet loving bugger who is amply lost.
Not that the west is really calling me, but I have no where else to go.
I really didn't get what part of the west brought the coldness toward east or then the longing for east without accepting the reality.May be one can enjoy good from both the worlds and get along with life without getting into the close insides of heart.
Even before I landed in Pune in the train on my way back from Delhi, I used to feel "lighter" – the weight I mean, seriously, as if I were already famished.
Anon: Maybe. Perhaps I need to find a technique to switch passions and loyalties when I change time zones.
Ups: Distance makes it lighter but surely that is an illusion?
D, You have captured the state-of-mind beautifully – It is good to know you sit back and give it some thought, I know a lot of people don't.
Though my past few india trips have been bad news mostly, like Anon said – I think the balance is important. Whoever said it would be easy!?
Just like you, I like what I am doing today and believe me, I know the difference. I worked for 2 years in India and I can vouch for the stark difference.
Has your journey to the West helped you grow as a person?
Have you done things you probably wouldn't have done in India (good and bad)?
Have you realized what 'education' really is?
And even with the distance – has the meaning of 'family' stayed the same for you?
If you answered yes, to any of the questions above you shouldn't feel lost anymore…