Anything?
DISCLAIMER: This is an emotional note and all references to anger, hatred, and discomfort refer to effects of hormones and adolescence. I have a loving and understanding family/friends and assure the reader that there were no instances of physical or mental abuse during my childhood.
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It's been two years since I moved back. Time for a little retrospection?
When I realised it's going to be 2 years, the first thing I told myself was that I need to stop starting conversations with "When I moved back....". It's old news now. I'm sure people are rolling their eyes inside their heads :).
I was chatting with my Kathak teacher and we were both complaining about the complacency that comes with life in Hyderabad. In some ways we've both moved from our "ideal" locations to Hyderabad. To digress for a second, I don't really know if NY was my ideal location, but my lifestyle there certainly was. Didi, on the other hand, had moved back from Delhi, the Kathak Mecca of India, hence slightly disillusioned with the scene here. She asked me if I had gained anything in the last two years.
When I left India, I wasn't leaving to pursue a dream education or make life in the so-called land of opportunities. I just needed to get out of Hyderabad. If you knew me then, you'll remember how hard I tried to stay at LSR in Delhi. I had to leave Hyd to find myself. I had been a rebellious teenager trying to break the stale, restrictive norms of the Marwari community and had always suffered with this fierce need for my independence. I dismissed all the advice my parents had for me and nurtured anger and rebellion over a simmering fire that hid inside me. But why was I fighting so hard? Not sure, hormones perhaps?
Sounds like a typical story from a typical Indian girl. It's true, I was in the same boat.
The 6 years that I stayed away, I didn't really crave for anything from here. I didn't miss the Indian food, the movies, the clothes, the family life. Nothing. I did a little dance of joy the day I filled gas in my car on my own. Buzzed when I put down a deposit on my first apartment. In the first few months of working, I was constantly playing with excel sheets to budget my life within my salary. These were all, to me, reasons to sigh in contentment. (glaring defiantly -- laugh all you want)
But once I finally began to feel comfortable with that existence, at peace with having the things I wanted, a recurring internal conflict I had been carrying since the day I graduated college began to nag me. Should I move back to India or stay here? Every time I called home, I felt a tug. I left home with a defiant spirit, will I always relate to it in the same way?
Long silences and disconnection dominated telephone conversations.I wondered if something was wrong with that picture. So far I had managed to suppress all this but was it a sign that they kept coming back again and again? I was scared, of falling prey to same old restrictions and conformations, of not having this easy, independent life anymore.
And I soon realised (well, 3 years later) that the only way I would resolve this conflict is by making the move. "The more scared we are of a calling, the more sure we can be that we have to do it."
Looking back, it's been the best thing. I wouldn't have it any other way. I feel secure that I can be whoever I want to be here. My family and community has come around to accept and respect me (even though they think I'm nuts) as an adult. I still feel like leaving Hyderabad to pursue some things I want to do, but this time there is no anger or guilt. I'll come back to visit or to stay again. More importantly, I'll come back with excitement.
So have I gained anything in these two years? Absolutely. I've gained more than I could hope for.
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It's been two years since I moved back. Time for a little retrospection?When I realised it's going to be 2 years, the first thing I told myself was that I need to stop starting conversations with "When I moved back....". It's old news now. I'm sure people are rolling their eyes inside their heads :).
I was chatting with my Kathak teacher and we were both complaining about the complacency that comes with life in Hyderabad. In some ways we've both moved from our "ideal" locations to Hyderabad. To digress for a second, I don't really know if NY was my ideal location, but my lifestyle there certainly was. Didi, on the other hand, had moved back from Delhi, the Kathak Mecca of India, hence slightly disillusioned with the scene here. She asked me if I had gained anything in the last two years.
When I left India, I wasn't leaving to pursue a dream education or make life in the so-called land of opportunities. I just needed to get out of Hyderabad. If you knew me then, you'll remember how hard I tried to stay at LSR in Delhi. I had to leave Hyd to find myself. I had been a rebellious teenager trying to break the stale, restrictive norms of the Marwari community and had always suffered with this fierce need for my independence. I dismissed all the advice my parents had for me and nurtured anger and rebellion over a simmering fire that hid inside me. But why was I fighting so hard? Not sure, hormones perhaps?
Sounds like a typical story from a typical Indian girl. It's true, I was in the same boat.
The 6 years that I stayed away, I didn't really crave for anything from here. I didn't miss the Indian food, the movies, the clothes, the family life. Nothing. I did a little dance of joy the day I filled gas in my car on my own. Buzzed when I put down a deposit on my first apartment. In the first few months of working, I was constantly playing with excel sheets to budget my life within my salary. These were all, to me, reasons to sigh in contentment. (glaring defiantly -- laugh all you want)
But once I finally began to feel comfortable with that existence, at peace with having the things I wanted, a recurring internal conflict I had been carrying since the day I graduated college began to nag me. Should I move back to India or stay here? Every time I called home, I felt a tug. I left home with a defiant spirit, will I always relate to it in the same way?
Long silences and disconnection dominated telephone conversations.I wondered if something was wrong with that picture. So far I had managed to suppress all this but was it a sign that they kept coming back again and again? I was scared, of falling prey to same old restrictions and conformations, of not having this easy, independent life anymore.
And I soon realised (well, 3 years later) that the only way I would resolve this conflict is by making the move. "The more scared we are of a calling, the more sure we can be that we have to do it."
Looking back, it's been the best thing. I wouldn't have it any other way. I feel secure that I can be whoever I want to be here. My family and community has come around to accept and respect me (even though they think I'm nuts) as an adult. I still feel like leaving Hyderabad to pursue some things I want to do, but this time there is no anger or guilt. I'll come back to visit or to stay again. More importantly, I'll come back with excitement.
So have I gained anything in these two years? Absolutely. I've gained more than I could hope for.
3 Comments:
I read this post last night and quite enjoyed it.
Then, this morning, I had a particular CD on while I was getting ready for work. It played while I sat with my egg whites trying to figure out the right mix of tobasco and ketchup. The songs meant so much to me 8 years ago when I left Coonoor (and home) to be on my own. I had no other reason but that. To be on my own.
And I told myself that I was going to write about it.
Till APSD said I write crap. So, though I'm still in the mood - the plans are stalled.
Well, APSD is not the only one who reads your blog. Besides he's a cranky old man anyway. So do write about it.....
and thank you for the compliment :).
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