The Curry Life
How unfortunate...the adventure has ended...for now anyway. But even after four weeks in India and a weekend in Canada, and I am still raring to go. Can't help it I suppose...four years without really going anywhere touristy can take its toll on one's head...well, unless Muncie counts as anywhere. But let's sidetrack that one for now so everyone doesn't start rolling their eyes. Of course, there's Savannah, GA in '03 and the Greek goddess of a restaurant hostess. A day (and a woman) to cherish! That was also the last time I spent on a beach, something I will hopefully rectify this year.
But plenty has happened in the last couple of months. Nothing especially eventful or even memorable, but definitely an "active" time. After four years of agony, repentence, replayed memories, homesickness and several other combinations of emotions that have colonized my heart and mind, but too personal to discuss here, the trip to India finally happened in December. I can think of several ways of describing the trip, though somehow "vacation" doesn't seem to be one of those descriptions. Yes, there was relaxation and lot's of it. But there was also the realization that as much as one tries to prepare for things to be different from the old snapshot in my head, there is nothing that could have prepared me for what I saw there.
My friends are the same, their lives are different. They are perhaps as nostalgic about the old days as I am, but no longer find the willingness (time can always be made) in themselves to relive those days, even for a couple of hours. I can't hold it against them, they have clearly moved on as everybody needs to. But it is those snapshots that takes me back there, that keeps me bound to them, and perhaps even defines who I am today because I don't have much else left of what I used to be.
And what makes it worse is the place. I don't recognize it anymore. And you know its true when the street you grew up on doesn't look the same anymore, when you can't find your own home anymore. And that literally happened! Senapati Bapat Road is a different universe. Yay for outsourcing! The street and most of its residents look and live more and more like Americans...debt and junk food rule the day. And yet, somehow, how do I get judged for being too much of an American?
Home is its own interesting world. I wonder if I should still call it home anymore. It feels like a jigsaw puzzle with several missing or out-of-place pieces. No more dad or sister. All three of us are in different corners of the world. My room looks like anything but my room, with mom's business now in full swing (GO MOM!). The only exception is the picture of me (where its always been) when I was five...still the way she sees me. But the detailed autopsy of my deficiences was published. I love you anyway, mom. Not that you don't, it's just that reading between the lines isn't always my strong suit. Just don't expect my patience to go up as you read those out.
But truthfully, I am making the trip sound worse than it actually was. For as little time as it may have been, it was good to see the old faces again. Made the trip worth it. And now, I at least know what they're doing in their lives today, so we have SOMETHING to talk about. Always better to a part of somebody's present, than their past. Pavaman (oh, the priceless surprise!), Tejas, Shiwanee, Lahoti, Arvind et al, you make life worth living. Thou, I shalt cherish.
If mom read this, I'd hear everything about how friends aren't forever (apparently 15+ years aren't enough!), but the isolationist lifestyle she worships isn't the guaranteed secret to a happy life either.
When I left, I thought...what will I go back for? What will I go back to? Am I missing anything worthwhile in between? Or am I just too anal to accept a change this big? Either way, I insist on hanging on to something that everybody wants to forget. I just need to tear up that snapshot in my head.
But plenty has happened in the last couple of months. Nothing especially eventful or even memorable, but definitely an "active" time. After four years of agony, repentence, replayed memories, homesickness and several other combinations of emotions that have colonized my heart and mind, but too personal to discuss here, the trip to India finally happened in December. I can think of several ways of describing the trip, though somehow "vacation" doesn't seem to be one of those descriptions. Yes, there was relaxation and lot's of it. But there was also the realization that as much as one tries to prepare for things to be different from the old snapshot in my head, there is nothing that could have prepared me for what I saw there.
My friends are the same, their lives are different. They are perhaps as nostalgic about the old days as I am, but no longer find the willingness (time can always be made) in themselves to relive those days, even for a couple of hours. I can't hold it against them, they have clearly moved on as everybody needs to. But it is those snapshots that takes me back there, that keeps me bound to them, and perhaps even defines who I am today because I don't have much else left of what I used to be.
And what makes it worse is the place. I don't recognize it anymore. And you know its true when the street you grew up on doesn't look the same anymore, when you can't find your own home anymore. And that literally happened! Senapati Bapat Road is a different universe. Yay for outsourcing! The street and most of its residents look and live more and more like Americans...debt and junk food rule the day. And yet, somehow, how do I get judged for being too much of an American?
Home is its own interesting world. I wonder if I should still call it home anymore. It feels like a jigsaw puzzle with several missing or out-of-place pieces. No more dad or sister. All three of us are in different corners of the world. My room looks like anything but my room, with mom's business now in full swing (GO MOM!). The only exception is the picture of me (where its always been) when I was five...still the way she sees me. But the detailed autopsy of my deficiences was published. I love you anyway, mom. Not that you don't, it's just that reading between the lines isn't always my strong suit. Just don't expect my patience to go up as you read those out.
But truthfully, I am making the trip sound worse than it actually was. For as little time as it may have been, it was good to see the old faces again. Made the trip worth it. And now, I at least know what they're doing in their lives today, so we have SOMETHING to talk about. Always better to a part of somebody's present, than their past. Pavaman (oh, the priceless surprise!), Tejas, Shiwanee, Lahoti, Arvind et al, you make life worth living. Thou, I shalt cherish.
If mom read this, I'd hear everything about how friends aren't forever (apparently 15+ years aren't enough!), but the isolationist lifestyle she worships isn't the guaranteed secret to a happy life either.
When I left, I thought...what will I go back for? What will I go back to? Am I missing anything worthwhile in between? Or am I just too anal to accept a change this big? Either way, I insist on hanging on to something that everybody wants to forget. I just need to tear up that snapshot in my head.
