I have a list of things to do that are at varying levels of unpleasantness. And immediacy. And importance. And so I choose to not do any of them and instead find a way to distract and occupy myself for the next half an hour or so until I drift into a 'semi-guilty but whatever' sort of sleep. Hence this post.
I'm just back from a short 2-week vacation in Chennai and I've had a week's worth of jetlagged hazy days and answering questions that went along the lines of "so how was your India trip?" The problem with being an Indian and visiting India is there is no simple answer to that question. Usually I get back from a vacation from a new place and I'm gushing about it for days on end. With India, life gets murkier. There were things that have changed tremendously. New buildings. New people in the family. Much changed friends. Older people. Auto drivers respecting the meter. There were things that were exactly the same as they were when I last visited and that ought to have changed. Prices were still high. Roads were still bad. The house was still a confused mess. Random men still commented on my boobs as I walked to the bus stop. Visiting friends and family I hadn't seen in more than a year was amazing but also a reminder of how different all our lives are now. There have been weddings, births and deaths.
Add to that the fact that two weeks is a short period to recover from first-world withdrawal and get used to the Indian way of life. I find that the longer I live in the US, the steeper my adjustment curve to the rest of the world gets, even if the place in question is a place I've lived in for the largest part of my life. I find myself biting down on the urge to yell at the people in SBI as they send me running from counter to counter for a simple task, the people at BSNL when I call to complain about the internet, my parents for not making my vacation seamless. I find myself trying to accept that electricity, internet, water are not taken-for-granted always-available utilities. I find myself having to relearn old habits, which truly is a lot of fun, like turning the heater on a couple of minutes before a shower, passing money and tickets back and forth in the bus when standing next to the conductor, tucking the folded bus ticket under my watch to hold it in place, looking to make sure I don't step on my dog every time I get up from the couch, dialing up to connect to the internet with a data card, crossing the road when not being able to rely on the fact that as a pedestrian you will be given every right of way.
And when I had to leave, it was more painful than I could remember it being. It feels like every time I come and go, it gets progressively more difficult to leave. I remember packing silently in my room and wondering why we choose to complicate our lives this way- leave the place we grew up in to sink roots elsewhere and divide our lives to varying degrees between all these places that we have touched. I remember wondering, as I have wondered several times before, if there is a way to bundle all the people we love into a personal universe and take it with us wherever we choose to go. I remember wondering how life would have turned out if I'd stayed back or if I'd lived in a time when travel was forbidden, to never feel this sadness at leaving and to never know what I'd be missing out on.
Now life has settled back into its usual pace and rhythm. Almost. There are still things that need to be gotten used to- a new job, a new longer commute, a new schedule. I feel like an impostor most of the time at work and I have to force myself to say yes to new work and new people even though I am paralyzed with fear that I will mess up mostly everything. "Yes (I will figure it out)". "Yes (I will wing it)". "Yes (I will fake it till I make it)". I vaguely remember a time when I used to feel the same way in grad school. And before then, I remember feeling the same way in high school right after I switched schools. I don't remember how long it took in either of these cases to form a comfort zone or if I ever did. In small ways though, I have been putting myself through this new-place-new-activity jitters-in-the-stomach feeling all through last year. I felt this way when I walked into a french class and I realized I don't understand a word that was being spoken. I felt this way everyday I walked in to my crossfit class, in to a warehouse with loud music and iron clanging and sweaty, groaning, muscly people. This "what have I gotten myself into?" phase is apparently the place where life begins if several popular quotes are to be believed and for now I will take that with a side order of kool-aid please.
I hate being alone at home and not entirely convinced of it. I hate hearing noises in the floor above that should be deserted but doesn't sound like it in the middle of the night. I hate my involuntary peek in to the closet right before I switch off the lights. I hate how my friends would grin and make fun of me if I recount this to them. I hate wondering why I am this paranoid and not others as much. Does no one else read the news? Are you as paranoid? Do you always check to make sure the doors are locked, even in daytime? Do you make sure you have the keys in your hand as you start walking to your car across a dark parking lot? Do you have nightmares of being attacked in your house?
I'm just back from a short 2-week vacation in Chennai and I've had a week's worth of jetlagged hazy days and answering questions that went along the lines of "so how was your India trip?" The problem with being an Indian and visiting India is there is no simple answer to that question. Usually I get back from a vacation from a new place and I'm gushing about it for days on end. With India, life gets murkier. There were things that have changed tremendously. New buildings. New people in the family. Much changed friends. Older people. Auto drivers respecting the meter. There were things that were exactly the same as they were when I last visited and that ought to have changed. Prices were still high. Roads were still bad. The house was still a confused mess. Random men still commented on my boobs as I walked to the bus stop. Visiting friends and family I hadn't seen in more than a year was amazing but also a reminder of how different all our lives are now. There have been weddings, births and deaths.
Add to that the fact that two weeks is a short period to recover from first-world withdrawal and get used to the Indian way of life. I find that the longer I live in the US, the steeper my adjustment curve to the rest of the world gets, even if the place in question is a place I've lived in for the largest part of my life. I find myself biting down on the urge to yell at the people in SBI as they send me running from counter to counter for a simple task, the people at BSNL when I call to complain about the internet, my parents for not making my vacation seamless. I find myself trying to accept that electricity, internet, water are not taken-for-granted always-available utilities. I find myself having to relearn old habits, which truly is a lot of fun, like turning the heater on a couple of minutes before a shower, passing money and tickets back and forth in the bus when standing next to the conductor, tucking the folded bus ticket under my watch to hold it in place, looking to make sure I don't step on my dog every time I get up from the couch, dialing up to connect to the internet with a data card, crossing the road when not being able to rely on the fact that as a pedestrian you will be given every right of way.
And when I had to leave, it was more painful than I could remember it being. It feels like every time I come and go, it gets progressively more difficult to leave. I remember packing silently in my room and wondering why we choose to complicate our lives this way- leave the place we grew up in to sink roots elsewhere and divide our lives to varying degrees between all these places that we have touched. I remember wondering, as I have wondered several times before, if there is a way to bundle all the people we love into a personal universe and take it with us wherever we choose to go. I remember wondering how life would have turned out if I'd stayed back or if I'd lived in a time when travel was forbidden, to never feel this sadness at leaving and to never know what I'd be missing out on.
Now life has settled back into its usual pace and rhythm. Almost. There are still things that need to be gotten used to- a new job, a new longer commute, a new schedule. I feel like an impostor most of the time at work and I have to force myself to say yes to new work and new people even though I am paralyzed with fear that I will mess up mostly everything. "Yes (I will figure it out)". "Yes (I will wing it)". "Yes (I will fake it till I make it)". I vaguely remember a time when I used to feel the same way in grad school. And before then, I remember feeling the same way in high school right after I switched schools. I don't remember how long it took in either of these cases to form a comfort zone or if I ever did. In small ways though, I have been putting myself through this new-place-new-activity jitters-in-the-stomach feeling all through last year. I felt this way when I walked into a french class and I realized I don't understand a word that was being spoken. I felt this way everyday I walked in to my crossfit class, in to a warehouse with loud music and iron clanging and sweaty, groaning, muscly people. This "what have I gotten myself into?" phase is apparently the place where life begins if several popular quotes are to be believed and for now I will take that with a side order of kool-aid please.
I hate being alone at home and not entirely convinced of it. I hate hearing noises in the floor above that should be deserted but doesn't sound like it in the middle of the night. I hate my involuntary peek in to the closet right before I switch off the lights. I hate how my friends would grin and make fun of me if I recount this to them. I hate wondering why I am this paranoid and not others as much. Does no one else read the news? Are you as paranoid? Do you always check to make sure the doors are locked, even in daytime? Do you make sure you have the keys in your hand as you start walking to your car across a dark parking lot? Do you have nightmares of being attacked in your house?
