Just got back from a 5 week vacation in India. And boy am I feeling a whirlwind of emotions. I don;t even know where to start. I pretty much am sure I can't articulate it all. I am not as seasoned a writer to clearly comprehend and then articulate the zillion thoughts that have been whizzing in and out of my brain. It's a roller coaster in there. Full throttle. And I can barely keep up.
Quite simply, I am torn. Between there and here. The thing is that everytime I go back to India for a vacation, it doesn't really feel like I am a tourist or a visitor. I blend in and India envelops me. I start living there as if that is where I live. Nothing seems strange, nothing seems disconcerting- it feels like I am home. I hop into rickshaws like I would into streetcars in Toronto. I cross the road with as much ease even though I am as hesitant to "jaywalk" here. I slip into churidars as easily as I do into my corporate attire. I chat with the dhobin as easily as I had never left. It all seems natural. It all feels like me. That feels like me. And this feels like me.
My relationships are there. My best friend- we talk more often and about more stuff than I do with anyone here. Mum and dad and the Noida house. My sister- we still trade clothes. My friends from the advertising fraternity. We catch up. It's all there and I pick up with so much ease from where I left off.
Home at Noida. Mum and dad still refer to the upstairs bedroom as my room. Not the guest room. That feels right. I settle right on. Everything seems familiar . Every corner feels like home. I know this space, this space know me. The garden, the terrace, the rooms, the kitchen- this is home. The meals, the timing of the meals, dad's gardening, mom's conversations, the chai that keeps coming, the dust and the dusting, the terrace. It all embraces me and I embrace it all.
13 days in Bangalore with my best friend and her family. I walked into her house after 3 and half years. I put my bags down and we hugged. And I just settled in. As if it was just another Friday night when I had come over to spend the weekend with her - like I did every Friday when I lived there. I did not feel like a guest. It just felt like an extension of my life, my space. I didn't feel like I was visiting. I felt like a part of me always lives here. Okay, definitely cannot articulate this. I know though, my best friend gets it. And then the energy I feel for those 13 days. Can't even begin to explain. Won't even try. The conversations, the laughs, the conversations, the kids, the conversations, the music, the conversations, the drinks, the conversations. The pure energy of it all. It was there then, it was there now. No time zone, no geographical distance can even come close to taking that away.
We visit my sister one day. She cooks for us. We all drink wine. We talk. We laugh. I ask to raid her closet. She threatens me with dire consequence if I do. And tells me to not even go near her jewellery. This is us. We do this. This is familiar.
And then Toronto is familiar. This is home. This is where I am. This is where my life is. This is who I am every single day. This is the air I breathe. The streets I walk. The subway I ride. The streetcar that takes me to places thar are familiar.
When did it become so comlicated? Or is it?
You kow that thing about the glass half full. Maybe that's what I need to do. I need to look at this differently. Maybe it is 2 worlds I live in. And 2 lives I live. And maybe that isn't a hard thing to deal with. Maybe my glass is neither half empty nor half full- I think it is spilling over with abundance.
Now you know what I mean by that roller coaster that's spinning in my head. Think I'm just going to enjoy the ride.
Quite simply, I am torn. Between there and here. The thing is that everytime I go back to India for a vacation, it doesn't really feel like I am a tourist or a visitor. I blend in and India envelops me. I start living there as if that is where I live. Nothing seems strange, nothing seems disconcerting- it feels like I am home. I hop into rickshaws like I would into streetcars in Toronto. I cross the road with as much ease even though I am as hesitant to "jaywalk" here. I slip into churidars as easily as I do into my corporate attire. I chat with the dhobin as easily as I had never left. It all seems natural. It all feels like me. That feels like me. And this feels like me.
My relationships are there. My best friend- we talk more often and about more stuff than I do with anyone here. Mum and dad and the Noida house. My sister- we still trade clothes. My friends from the advertising fraternity. We catch up. It's all there and I pick up with so much ease from where I left off.
Home at Noida. Mum and dad still refer to the upstairs bedroom as my room. Not the guest room. That feels right. I settle right on. Everything seems familiar . Every corner feels like home. I know this space, this space know me. The garden, the terrace, the rooms, the kitchen- this is home. The meals, the timing of the meals, dad's gardening, mom's conversations, the chai that keeps coming, the dust and the dusting, the terrace. It all embraces me and I embrace it all.
13 days in Bangalore with my best friend and her family. I walked into her house after 3 and half years. I put my bags down and we hugged. And I just settled in. As if it was just another Friday night when I had come over to spend the weekend with her - like I did every Friday when I lived there. I did not feel like a guest. It just felt like an extension of my life, my space. I didn't feel like I was visiting. I felt like a part of me always lives here. Okay, definitely cannot articulate this. I know though, my best friend gets it. And then the energy I feel for those 13 days. Can't even begin to explain. Won't even try. The conversations, the laughs, the conversations, the kids, the conversations, the music, the conversations, the drinks, the conversations. The pure energy of it all. It was there then, it was there now. No time zone, no geographical distance can even come close to taking that away.
We visit my sister one day. She cooks for us. We all drink wine. We talk. We laugh. I ask to raid her closet. She threatens me with dire consequence if I do. And tells me to not even go near her jewellery. This is us. We do this. This is familiar.
And then Toronto is familiar. This is home. This is where I am. This is where my life is. This is who I am every single day. This is the air I breathe. The streets I walk. The subway I ride. The streetcar that takes me to places thar are familiar.
When did it become so comlicated? Or is it?
You kow that thing about the glass half full. Maybe that's what I need to do. I need to look at this differently. Maybe it is 2 worlds I live in. And 2 lives I live. And maybe that isn't a hard thing to deal with. Maybe my glass is neither half empty nor half full- I think it is spilling over with abundance.
Now you know what I mean by that roller coaster that's spinning in my head. Think I'm just going to enjoy the ride.
