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We all make enormous plans to travel the world and grab everything it has to offer.

We all want to cross the oceans and continents.

We want to wander. We want to go back to the nomadic ages and make temporary settlements.

We leave our homes in search of something new.

Only to end up wanting to make the new place our home.

It is then we feel –

It is then I felt

The inevitable feeling of wanting to go back

To familiar places and faces,

To the views I took for granted and the food I took for granted,

To waking up to my dad’s face and my mom’s kisses.

I want the end of every journey,

Every road,

Every path I take,

To be the same.

I want to go back home.

 

 

 

A daughter’s journey

The bell rang causing a wave of children to exit the iron gates of the school. In the huge commotion that followed, Salim stood at the opposite side of the road, searching for Aisha. He saw his daughter come running towards the junction with a wide grin. He gestured her to stay right where she was as the road was particularly busy at this time of the day. He had also just witnessed an accident at another crossing just ten kilometers from the school. As he crossed the road, he held out his hands for Aisha to grab. She grabbed his sweaty and tortured palm – tortured by the underpaid and long hours of work that he had to do at the nearby brick factory.

They reached home an hour later and were welcomed by a group of elderly men who were being served hot chai by Salim’s wife. As they sipped their chai, one of the village elders remarked, “You should know better than to send your daughter to school. It is a dangerous world out there! Too dangerous for girls – old or young. You should keep her at home.” Salim merely smiled as he dropped Aisha on the ground. Aisha ran inside to hug her mother.

They always reached after sunset. Salim’s supervisor was kind enough to lend him some time to drop and pick up his daughter everyday from school. Salim would then make up for the time by working extra time on the weekend.

The routine continued. Every day. Every year, for the next seven years. Aisha, then, learned to ride a cycle to school. She seemed to be talked about in her village – in more ways than one. Some said “Oh, she is going to become a great doctor and bring pride to our village!” while others continued to pour in their condolencses and mocked Salim for sending a girl out of the village to study. TO STUDY!

Years passed and one day, as Aisha was returning home in her cycle, she noticed the same group of old men sitting outside her house. They were drinking chai. Nothing unusual, except this time, there were a few unknown people too. She did not like the look on her father’s face.

As she parked her cycle, her mother rushed out and pulled her into the house. “Get changed!”, she said. “What is happening?”, asked Aisha. “They have brought a proposal for you.”, said her mother.

Two hours later, as Aisha was helping her mother wash the empty chai tumblers, Salim called her from outside. He asked her to sit beside him. “What do you think of the boy?”, he asked. Aisha did not talk for sometime. Salim understood her tacit response. He patted her back and said “Don’t worry, Dr. Aisha! This is not happening now. ”

*****

Six years later, Salim was woken up by an announcement. He was on board an airplane. Though he did not seem to understand the announcement in english, he knew he had reached the destination as he looked outside the window. He grabbed the one bag he had brought from home and thought about his wife, who had passed away recently due to a terminal illness. “I wish you were here with me now.”, he thought as he smiled at the air hostess greeting him out of the plane.

A few minutes later, he stepped outside the airport. He searched for her. His eyesight was failing him as he strained to find his daughter. He finally caught her walking towards him. Aisha had gone to a big city to become a doctor. There was quite an uproar at his village as people feared how a girl could survive on her own in a big city. But, Aisha made it and tomorrow was her graduation.

Salim took a step towards the road as Aisha waved to him and asked him to wait. As she came closer, she opened her arms to hug her father as tears rolled down his cheeks. She grabbed his bag in one hand and his hand in the other. He clutched her hand as they began to cross the road.


Author’s note: Dedicated to all the cool dads of the world. I wrote this to not lose touch with my writing as it has been ages. Don’t be alarmed if it seemed too rusty.

How to Chennaiite

Chennai is my hometown and I have lived there for 19 years! With the city turning 377, I thought I would give few tips on how to blend into the eclectic emotions of only the greatest city on earth. B)

1. Use “macha” in almost every sentence.

Bro is a word but macha is an emotion. It articulates true friendship and a bond forged by choice and not chance. I know it is still considered a little not okay for girls to use the word, but, hey, i use it, macha.

2. Defend Chennai.

Chennai has three kinds of climate – hot, hotter and hottest. May of every year, you will find almost all of us in Chennai complaining about how the distance of the earth from the Sun is not ideal as we watch our skin melt away in the weather. But, the moment somebody from a colder part of India lands in Chennai and starts to make the tiniest of fuss, we come to the rescue. “It’s great to have sunshine throughout the year, you know! So much solar energy!”

3. Tanglish

Tanglish is nothing but a cross between Tamil and English. Tanglish can be used when you want to talk in the sweet language of tamil and also want to sound a little swag with your english. I am proud to be part of the generation that coined words like “samalification”.

4. Rajinism

Okay, if you are new to the city and looking to make some new friends, I understand learning Tamil could be hard. What you can do instead is watch all of Thalaivar’s movies. I assure you, you will able to make friends with everyone from the lady in the corner of the street selling mallipoo to the popular girl at college that you’ve been waiting to ask out.

5. (Try to) Learn a language

It is amazing how we have different dialects within the same city. From North Madras, to Mylapore, different people speak different kinds of Tamil and yet, we co-exist as one happy family. Learning one dialect might be harder than learning another.

6. Dosa, Sambhar and Idly

There is this misconception that Chennaiites eat only dosas and rice all the time. No, we do eat a lot of different cuisines. But, we love to bear witness to the wedding of Lady Idly and Sir Sambhar atleast once a week. Food is our second language.

Being away from home, I thought I might forget the little nuances of this great city. On the contrary, I am constantly reminded of it. For instance, my Canadian- American coworker was telling me pretty excitedly about having had the chance to be to India. I was taken aback when he seemed to know CSK. (Tsk, I am lying! I know we are damn famous! 😉 )

Happy birthday, Chennai. You are resilient. You are welcoming. You are one of a kind. And you are being missed.

When we were four

When we were four

You saw me weep –

A red-eyed, shrieking, breathless monster

You wept too

You saw me laugh

Portraying the unadulterated joie de vivre

You laughed too

 

When we were six

You saw me count

One, two, three plus one, two – five

You repeated after me

 

When we were ten

You stole my lunch – every day

Puri, potatoes, chocolates – everything

After you realized I was stealing yours

 

When we were thirteen

You saw me being sent out of class

Once again, I did not do my homework

“I did not do it, Miss”, you said

No, you lied

You got sent out too

 

When we were sixteen

You joined my physics tuition

I learned physics

You learned your first crush’s phone number

I failed in physics tests

You failed in “love”

Your first heartbreak

No, OUR first heartbreak

 

When we were eighteen

I joined Engineering

You joined Medicine

I had arrears

You had your first beer

We had our second heartbreak together

Only this time, it was my crush

 

When we were twenty-one

You saw me move to another city –

Red-eyed, shrieking, breathless monster

You hugged me tight at the airport

We made promises to never fall apart

 

When we were twenty-four

You found your true love

I flew down for your wedding

And there, I found my true love

 

When we were thirty

We met after six years

You, your wife, your two-year old son

Me, my wife, my one-year old daughter

Our kids cried a lot

We cried too

I think we cried more

 

When we were forty

You saw me cry at my wife’s funeral

Not a read-eyed, shrieking, breathless monster

But, worse

 

When we were fifty

We watched our kids fall in love with each other

We watched them smile and laugh

Portraying the unadulterated joie de vivre

What a sight!

 

When we were sixty

We watched our kids get married

“You are now family”, said your son

Does he not know?

That we have always been?

 

Now we are eighty

I am searching for my glasses

You are searching for your dentures

I know you are hiding my glasses

Because I am hiding your dentures


Thanks for reading! 🙂 Do share if you like it! 🙂 Subscribe to receive my posts as e-mails. 🙂

From Idly to Quesadilla – my journey so far

Emotional posts of my friends who are leaving India for their higher studies on my Facebook timeline prompted me to write this article. Needless to point out, most of them are going to the US. If you are one of them, first of all, a hearty congratulations!

Last August, when I left my home town to the US to pursue my Master’s degree, I felt much like Bilbo Baggins going on his adventure. I had never lived away from home and I was quite looking forward to my “independence”. My first year in the US has been eventful and interesting.

The first few weeks were euphoric. Especially the time before my school opened for Fall. The new culture, new environment and new friends thrilled me. I tried to absorb the many cultural differences between India and the US. Later, I would sit and describe these to my friends and parents back home. Many of the things that I accept casually now were initially baffling/funny/incomprehensible. That’s the great thing about moving 8000 miles away from your comfort zone – you grow.

“3×65=?”

Math was a subject I really hated at School. This exacerbated the problem of converting the cost of everything I found at Walmart or Target from USD to INR. I avoided buying even the most essential items in the first month because they were “expensive” in the US. A single cup of coffee is $3?!! That’s like 3×65, which is *takes out phone and opens calculator* Rs.195!!! I don’t need it. I will drink the free tap water I get in my kitchen. Such a feeling wears off eventually when  you are trying to stay awake at 1 AM at the library trying to complete an assignment that is due the next day.

Time zones

Most of us know that there is a difference in time between EST/CST/MST/PST and IST. But, no matter how much you prepare for it, it is going to be confusing in the initial days. But as time passes, you will acclimatize yourself to saying “Good night, dad!”, when your dad wishes you “Goodmorning, dear!”. But, it was not too hard for me since my social circle was filled with a more-than-the-required amount of night owls. Also, due to the different time zones, you will always have someone to talk to, no matter what time of the day/night it is.

Indian food

After the initial month of trying out pizzas, burgers, tacos and learning to pronounce and order Quesadillas (key-suh-dee-uhs), I started missing Indian food. The Idly I used to crib about at home felt like the Moon – out of my reach. I finally stopped eating out and started cooking for myself. My mom would send me recipes of everything from Maggi to Sambhar. She still does and no matter how closely I follow it, it is never the same. If you are leaving in a few days, eat every little dish that you’ve ever loved. Especially ones that seem super-special when made by a particular person. I still miss the small biryani shop near my home.

Parents and technology

I had introduced my parents to Skype and WhatsApp before I left so we could stay in touch. Not a day passes without my mom sending me her “selfie of the day”. I have to admit she has mastered it well now. I share the most number of media on WhatsApp with my mom and dad – pictures of everything from my burnt Chapathis to my new hairstyle. And when your grand mother tries to talk to you on Skype, trust me she is going to focus her chin instead of her face the first few times.

Homesickness

So I was longing for my “independence”, wasn’t I? Sadly, there’s not a day that passes when I don’t long to go home. For someone who used to spend most of her time with her phone and laptop at home, I now spend hours on calls and video conferences with my parents. Sigh! Gladly, I did go home once this Summer but no matter how often I visit my parents and friends back in India, I will always miss living at home.

Extended family

I don’t think I would have stayed here and not run home, if my friends here weren’t there for me. You share your house with them, you burn your dishes with them, you learn to cook with them, you do your laundry with them, you flunk/ace your tests with them. You learn that it is important to ask and receive help. You resonate with everyone else here. Everyone misses their parents. Everyone misses their siblings. They see you cry. You see them cry. You try to fill the void that your loved ones left in your life with them and they do the same with you. They become your (extended) family.

Growth

I have learned a lot of things after coming to the US. If you are coming here in the future, you will too. Your GPA at school maybe a 3.9 or a 2.9. But, at the end of a year, your GPA in life experiences will definitely be a 4.0/4.0. It could be hard sometimes. But what achievement isn’t hard? There will be ups and downs, but the varied experiences are the things that make the journey worthwhile. Whether you plan on settling here in the US, or you are planning to go back home in few years, these few years will definitely be a turning point in your life.

********

Thank you for reading. (:

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Recipe

No, this is not a recipe for red velvet cupcake. Nor is this a recipe for chicken biryani. I wish I knew them though. This is a confused adult’s recipe to young adulthood. If you belong to the age group of 19-25, you are most likely to understand my views.

1. Happiness

So, you are 21. You are going abroad to do your higher education. Woohoo! Or, you just finished your undergraduate studies and you have got yourself a new job in a new city/country. Woohoo! The happiness of moving out of your home seems to be the number one bait that lures you into thinking this is the best thing to ever happen to you. You feel you are the hero of your own movie. You are all set to take on a new adventure, find your soulmate and fight some villains along the way and have a happily ever after. There’s nothing wrong with this thought, except this is not a Bollywood movie.

2. Power

Okay, so you have moved away. You are an adult (at least by definition) now. You do the many things you have never dared to do before. Because you feel like you finally have the power to cross off those things you marked in your bucket list that you made on a frustrated day when you were in High School, after watching a really aspiring movie.

3. Independence

Isn’t freedom directly tied to empowerment? Or so you thought. You are free to do what you want, whenever you want (please translate to “off-office hours / the hours not spent in a classroom or library doing assignments / whatever it is that fits your situation the best).

4. Laundry, dishes and bills

As someone who loves to put off doing the laundry until the last minute and then finding no new clothes to wear, I can swear it is annoying. But, nothing can compare to the frustration of doing your dishes. There have been many times I have put off cooking and just ordered off Dominos instead simply because the thought of doing the dishes did not make the task seem worthwhile. I’m sure there are many out there who are just like me. (Hey, fellow lazybones!).  And then there are bills. Phone bill, electricity bill, water bill, air bill, life bill, what not.

5. Confusion

“So, am I an adult? Am I still in the process of becoming one?” Such questions keep nagging my mind. It would be good to comment here that there have been times when I have literally said “We should ask an adult about it.” and then realized I’m one too. I know people younger than me look up at me and think I have it all figured out because I used to think the same about other adults when I was a kid. But, LOL.

Despite all this, and jokes apart, I think it’s okay for us young adults to feel like we are lost. It is okay to be a kidult – someone who is a kid but also an adult. At least I can put my hand up to say I’m one. Put your hand up, if you are one too.

Thanks for reading. Now, get back to your orderly chaos as I get back to mine.

 

Hi, I am your broken heart

Hi, I am your broken heart.

Many months ago, I was on the floor. Shattered to many pieces. Don’t blame yourself. I don’t blame you.

You gave me to someone you trusted. Maybe, I slipped from their hands. Or maybe, they dropped me on purpose. Either way, the damage was the same. I broke. I know it broke you too, in places you didn’t know existed. I know you didn’t want to break me, I promise I completely understand.

You often came into the room where I lay. Sometimes you were pushed into the room by memories which you didn’t want to visit. Sometimes you came in by yourself. Sometimes you would storm inside. Sometimes you would hesitate at the door.

All my pieces were on the floor in all their glory. It was a dark room except for the light you let inside whenever you opened the door. There was nothing else in there except an empty table. As you stepped in, you stepped on my pieces. Your feet bled. The pain caused by a heartbreak is both emotional and physical. My pain is emotional. Your pain is physical. You bled – sometimes for a short time, sometimes for days together.

Sometimes you would leave by yourself. Sometimes you needed someone to rescue you. Only someone special could see you bleeding. Only they could enter the room. Your best friend, your mother, your father, your sibling or your lover – whoever it was, only they knew this room existed. Maybe because only they cared enough to find out. They would drag you out. They would rescue you.

You came back often after that. But the frequency decreased slowly. You stopped visiting me.

Yesterday, as I watched the door open, I hoped it wasn’t you. Seeing you in pain caused me more pain. It was your rescuer. They picked me up – piece by piece and mended me. They spent time in trying to fix me.

They left.

Now, here I sit on the table. I’ve been fixed. Mind you, you can still see the cracks from the damage. But that does not cause me pain. I’m finally free. I feel good. And I know you do too. Because you have stopped visiting me. I’m happy for you. Dont worry about me. You are fine. You are stronger than before. And so am I.

I am your broken heart. And I love you.

“We are all broken, that’s how the light gets through.” – Ernest Hemingway.

Picture : Taken on the Library Walk, New York City on a very hot weekend. 🙂

Passion

“Ma’am, please turn off your mobile phone.”, said the smiling air hostess. She gave a fake smile and looked at the photo of her husband on her phone. She switched off her phone. A few announcements were made by the pilot but she was not paying attention. As she watched outside the window, she saw a raindrop making its course on the window glass. Another drop of water fell – this time, from the corner of her eye. She shut her eyes tight and tried not to cry. At least not loudly. The plane took off.

*********

She woke up to the sound of the pilot’s announcement. “We have reached Delhi”, he said. She looked outside. It was a warm sunny day. She checked the time on her watch. Five minutes past eight. “Khan would have woken up now.”, she thought.

The flight landed and she collected her bags from the overhead compartment. She switched on her phone and she had received a text message. “Hope you reached safely. Give me a call when you are all set. Love you!”, it read. She smiled and collected the bags from the overhead compartment.

Once she was outside the airport, she called for a taxi. As she sat in and the taxi took off, she checked her watch. Forty-five minutes past eight. “He must be getting ready to leave.”, she thought. She called him up.

“Hello, Miss. Wife! How is it going?”, he asked. “I just left the airport. Did you have breakfast? What did you have?”, she enquired. “A bowl of oats. Something feels wrong though! I must be the only idiot on the planet who cannot make a bowl of oats right!”, he said laughing. “I’m sorry!”, she said, her voice breaking down.

*********

It was three months ago. She received her admit from one of the top institutes in the country. She had always wanted to get an MBA. It had been her dream. Not her aunt’s though. Her parents had passed away in an accident when she was ten years old. She was brought up by her mom’s sister and her husband. They had provided all the basic care – even more than what her parents’ savings made possible. They had been kind to her. They sent her to a reputed university in Chennai. She always came top of her class.

As she turned 20, they felt that she should get married – “settle down”, as many would say. It was not that she did not want to. But, she also wanted to study further. But, she did not want to be a burden to them anymore and had reluctantly agreed to an arranged marriage.

Khan was not her typical “knight in shining armor”. Yes, he was tall. He was handsome. He was well placed in a very reputed corporate company. But, somehow she found it quite impossible to “fall in love” with someone she had just met.

They got married a few months after she got her Bachelor’s degree. The first few weeks in a new home were a bit intimidating. But, her in-laws were quite kind to her. They did not impose any new rules on her. She had enough freedom – freedom to choose between staying at home or going for work. She chose the latter.

“But, I have always wanted to study more. A bachelor’s is not enough for me, Khan!”, she said. He did not talk for a few minutes. He read the admit letter in his hand for the third time. “This is such a good opportunity. My company is sponsoring and it is such a good university!”, she said. He did not look convinced. “Please, just two years. It is my passion.”, she said.

A few days passed. She had given up hopes. She knew some sacrifices were always made when it came to a marriage. She was happy to get a husband like Khan. He took very good care of her. For someone who did not have parents growing up, her in-laws made her forget that they were her in-laws. They were like her own family. She thought it was okay to give up on her dream.

That night, after dinner, Khan took her out for a drive. “You can go.”, he said. She did not believe what she heard. “But, I though Amma and Appa were against it.”, she said, “Plus, it is going to be hard on you.”. “They are still not 100 percent okay with it. But, I convinced them today.”, he said and took her hand in his. “You said it was your passion. You should always follow your passion.”, he said. She had never felt this happy. She could not believe what she was hearing. “Just two years. Thanks so much.”, she said through her tears.

*********

“I’m sorry!”, she said, her voice breaking down.

“Hey, it’s okay. Remember, it was my decision to send you.”, he said. She reached her apartment. The next one week was hectic. She had to set up her apartment, enroll for classes and choose which ones she liked. But, as hectic as they were, they were also exciting. Being in a class room, learning something new everyday was something she had missed in the last one year.

A couple of months passed and she was topping her classes, as usual. But, something made her sad. She was not as happy doing well here as she had been in her undergraduate studies. She missed Khan.

In the last one year, she had not only found her husband, she had also found her lover and her best friend in him. He was a man of habits and she learned his habits. How he woke up at eight everyday, how he liked his coffee everyday (the exact same amount of coffee powder, milk and sugar, all in the right proportion), how he wore his watch before he made his tie (and never the other way around) everyday. She was missing it all. She wanted to finish the course as soon as possible and fly home.

*********

It was her birthday. She was fast asleep on her assignment on the table when the phone rang. It was Khan. It was 12 midnight. She yawned and picked up the call. “Hey, baby!”, he said. “Hi, Khan!”, she said, looking at the assignment and the empty and ineffective coffee cup on the edge of the table. “Happy birthday, princess!”, he said. “Thanks! I miss you. I wish you were here now.”, she said, tears welling up in her eye. “Could you open the door?”, he asked. “What? Now? Have you arranged to send flowers? Aren’t you such a romantic!”, she laughed and went to the door. “You’ll see, baby!”, he said.

She opened the door and froze. There he was! He had a bouquet in his hand and his American Tourister on the other. She could not believe her eyes. He came in and hugged her. “You were right. Here are your flowers! Happy birthday!”, he said, giving her the flowers. She did not talk a word. She was still in shock.

He brought his American Tourister inside and he jumped on the couch. “I have a long day tomorrow. It is my first day at the Delhi branch. I have to impress my new colleagues.”, he said. She still had not spoken a word. “I got a transfer to Delhi, baby.”, he said. She rushed to him with joy. “How about Amma and Appa?”, she enquired. “They will be fine.”, he said taking her palm in his. “I could not stay away from you. Something strong made me get a transfer”, he said. “What?”, she asked.

“Passion. You are my passion. We should always follow our passion, shouldn’t we?”