This is a post I have been putting off for a while now (about a week and a half to be exact) because while I have been writing snippets of it in my head since December, for the bulk of it I have no idea what to say. To me one of the most satisfying feelings in the world is phrasing something perfectly. That's probably why I whisper the same sentence over and over to myself when I'm writing, in order to make sure that it sounds exactly the way I want it to. Or the reason that while searching for a job this week, I found myself going over my introductions as I walked from store to store, repeating them under my breath with just the right ordering of words. So if I can get that invested in one sentence spoken to a store manager I've never met before, it should go without saying that how I summarize one of the most significant five months of my life is going to sort of be a big deal. But at a certain point I just have to face the fact that I need to say something, so I will do my best to make it convey the things that I actually want.
I guess the thing that finally pushed me over the edge into writing this was a visit I made to my sister's school today. My sister is in first grade, and her teacher asked me to come into the class and talk about my time in India. So I put together a little presentation with some pictures I had taken, and put on my new salwar kameez, which the teachers at school gave me as a going away present. The second I got into the classroom I was immediately struck with a feeling that I never expected to have towards a place that I was supposedly just "visiting"- home sickness. The kids faces lit up just like my kindergartners' had at GJS, some of them rushed up to tell me something of the utmost importance, and just like I had been the centre of attention in India for being so different, once again all of the kids were looking at me like some new cultural anomaly. I sat down and launched immediately into explaining what I had been doing there- going through my pictures and explaining the various clothes and different customs. I was surprised by just how receptive these six and seven year olds were to me blabbering on about some place they all knew next to nothing about. They would raise their hands and ask questions about photographs, pointing out details that had become so familiar to me I wouldn't have even thought to make a note of them.
But the point in the presentation that really made me miss India, more so even than the pictures of all the school kids that I miss so much, was when one little boy raised his hand and asked a questions starting with, "where you are from." He said it with such nonchalance, and though I had explained that I had been there for only five months, to him that was easily enough to be considered "from somewhere." Maybe it was the way I had talked about it, or the way I was dressed, or perhaps I am just over analyzing the speech of a six year old, but to me it felt like he had really nailed it. I wasn't talking about India the way I might mention something I had observed while traveling in Europe. I was speaking with the pride of someone who has a genuine investment in that place.
When I first went to India I didn't expect it to be anything more than a lengthy visit. But there is no doubt in my mind that India became a home to me. I think the major difference between visiting a place and living in it is that when you visit somewhere you simply learn about it, through observation and experience. But when you have lived in a place you actually incorporate that place into who you are. Each time I am asked about my experience in India I think so hard about what I am going to say, because I want desperately to show why I have chosen this place as one that is worth loving. So while I am back in the United States, my relationship with India is in no way over. Each time I am asked to recount what it was like, or I find myself cooking a pot of dal and subji, or I open my closet to find it filled with kurtas, I will be reminded just why India is so important to me. I am never going to stop telling this story because I never want to let myself forget the place that despite every apparent difference, welcomed me with love and open arms.
I guess the thing that finally pushed me over the edge into writing this was a visit I made to my sister's school today. My sister is in first grade, and her teacher asked me to come into the class and talk about my time in India. So I put together a little presentation with some pictures I had taken, and put on my new salwar kameez, which the teachers at school gave me as a going away present. The second I got into the classroom I was immediately struck with a feeling that I never expected to have towards a place that I was supposedly just "visiting"- home sickness. The kids faces lit up just like my kindergartners' had at GJS, some of them rushed up to tell me something of the utmost importance, and just like I had been the centre of attention in India for being so different, once again all of the kids were looking at me like some new cultural anomaly. I sat down and launched immediately into explaining what I had been doing there- going through my pictures and explaining the various clothes and different customs. I was surprised by just how receptive these six and seven year olds were to me blabbering on about some place they all knew next to nothing about. They would raise their hands and ask questions about photographs, pointing out details that had become so familiar to me I wouldn't have even thought to make a note of them.
But the point in the presentation that really made me miss India, more so even than the pictures of all the school kids that I miss so much, was when one little boy raised his hand and asked a questions starting with, "where you are from." He said it with such nonchalance, and though I had explained that I had been there for only five months, to him that was easily enough to be considered "from somewhere." Maybe it was the way I had talked about it, or the way I was dressed, or perhaps I am just over analyzing the speech of a six year old, but to me it felt like he had really nailed it. I wasn't talking about India the way I might mention something I had observed while traveling in Europe. I was speaking with the pride of someone who has a genuine investment in that place.
When I first went to India I didn't expect it to be anything more than a lengthy visit. But there is no doubt in my mind that India became a home to me. I think the major difference between visiting a place and living in it is that when you visit somewhere you simply learn about it, through observation and experience. But when you have lived in a place you actually incorporate that place into who you are. Each time I am asked about my experience in India I think so hard about what I am going to say, because I want desperately to show why I have chosen this place as one that is worth loving. So while I am back in the United States, my relationship with India is in no way over. Each time I am asked to recount what it was like, or I find myself cooking a pot of dal and subji, or I open my closet to find it filled with kurtas, I will be reminded just why India is so important to me. I am never going to stop telling this story because I never want to let myself forget the place that despite every apparent difference, welcomed me with love and open arms.
