Journey to the past…

Original posting date: July 15, 2009

Going home is a highpoint for me. The moment the airplane lands at Mumbai airport, the stench in the air declares… “Welcome home!” I must say, it’s the sweetest smell for me, especially when I visit home like once in two years. The moment I leave the quiet enclosure of the aircraft, it seems like I am being sucked into a parallel universe…the sound, the smell, the hubbub of life and people is just overwhelming. My brain just explodes, trying to keep up with and comprehend the shock of stepping into a world of intense activity. Living in the US robs you of all the stimuli that life in India comes with. I cannot even begin to narrate what a regular day in India may come with.

The ‘morning raagas’ consist of shrieks and shouts of children going to school; the vegetable vendors shouting on the top of their voices, trying to get a good start to a business day; the milkman delivering the milk so fast that you wonder how many houses he serves every day with his precision-timed delivery-system; the paper boy trying to toss the papers precisely at your doorstep; the ‘kaam wali baai’ showing-up half asleep since her alcoholic husband came home late last night and made a ‘tamasha’ in front of the neighbors by beating her up (now as I write this, it makes me wonder what a silly term it is for a maid, 'kaam wali baai'…as if all other women don’t have any job to do ); the barks of stray dogs chasing after vehicles and the baying of cattle on the streets as they forage for food; and the noise of vehicles starting-up as people mount them to go to work every morning….it’s intense.

The ‘afternoon raagas’ are milder with the sounds of salesmen knocking on every door, trying to force feed you with things you don’t need; children coming back from school, happy to be done with it, and looking forward to a refreshing nap and play time in the evening; and the occasional visitor at your place who is regretting his decision to venture out in the hot afternoon sun.

The ‘evening raagas’ pick up again as people come back home from a busy day at work or school; as couples start to get ready to go out for a ride around-town or dinner outside; the illuminated bazaar filled with people stocking up on stuff; the cattle returning to their rightful stables for a good night’s sleep; and the barking of a lone dog, late in the night, that keeps you from falling asleep.

Man, I miss home so much. But every time I go back, it seems that home as I remember it has changed so much that I spend time scratching my head, trying to remember how it looked the last time I came home. Journey to India is like a journey to the past…it’s as if my frame of reference is still stuck in the past while the whole world has moved ahead. My room is no longer my room, my stuff has been donated very charitably to people who need it the most, a few keepsakes that I saved since childhood have been stowed away in a box and forgotten about. My name has been erased from every corner of my house, except, maybe, in photographs...

Every time I go home it seems like I am at a meet-and-greet conference. New additions to the family in the form of sis-in-laws and brother-in-laws and babies born in the last two years…there’s too much of catching-up to be done… and most of the times I wonder what memory these people will have of me after I leave…or, will they feel any attachment towards me… since, I am that person who shows up once in a couple of years and is gone for a long time after. Visiting home also brings back memories of people I cannot meet, since they are gone forever…and it’s painful to face the people who are left behind…It is then that the vacuum those people created starts to haunt you.

India trip also comes along with tons of marriages to attend, parties with friends and family, lunch and dinner invitations, apart from shopping for stuff found exclusively in India…and the mere four weeks of holidays that you get for a trip to India seem scant to the point that it’s like you have your foot out the door the moment you step in…I regret not having enough time to have heart-to-heart talks with Mom and Dad and my brother and my cousins and friends…and the trip becomes painful and sad when it’s supposed to be the best time of the year.

The graying hair and extra wrinkles on people’s faces comes as a shock that how much has changed since I left, and it makes me think what Mom and Dad must be feeling about me…perhaps that their beloved little girl has grown up to be a fine woman...

Every time I go home, it becomes more and more difficult for me to come back, but that doesn’t stop me from counting days to the next trip and looking forward to it…that’s what keeps the excitement going I guess, till the next journey to the past!