Seven seas across, as an outlander amidst unknown faces and an absolutely unknown future, I sit by mycasement and gleam into, what now seems, a bygone eon.
It has been more than an year since I shifted from the capital of India to the capital of the United States ofAmerica. And one question reaches me no matter where I am, ‘Do you like the USA?’ well, yes I do.
The predominance of law, which is unscathed of corruption or casteism, is fully implemented without
collecting cobwebs in the pages of the American constitution. The discipline with which its citizens (at
least a majority of them) abide by its rules and regulation. The immediate medical attention received at
the dial of 911 no matter who you are, a pauper or a prince. The customer service policy of this capitalisteconomy has me gawked. The courtesy and mannerisms of its’ people taught me ‘thank you’ and ‘excuseme’ need to be used often and not allowed to rot in the dictionary.
But… I miss India! The last one year has had me yearning for my family and friends. Be it a simple walkdown the neighborhood sucking ice- candies that sucked our troubles too, nibbling grilled corn on theterrace ate away our trifling worries. The colors splashed on the canvas had brightened our lives as well.Flying kites and seeing it reach the zenith we saw our dreams touching the horizon. Strumming the guitar was music and dedication for some but for us, it stood as the epitome for inner satisfaction and fun. Secrets and mischief were exchanged by way of eyes and naah! We never needed words to communicate them.
I express my gratitude to the Indian Railways that always make my summer vacation a very fond memory. I could not contain my anxiety when the station nears and I peep out of the window wishing to be the first to spot my Ammama and Muthachan. And when the train is just about to halt I jump off the bogie to land in my Grandparents arms. I miss the famous Indian roads as well, imagining the busy roads that still manage a smooth flow of traffic without the strict adherence to lane driving. Some sort of a hidden understanding that has this chaos organized breaks me into a bewildering smile. I miss the by-lanes of our colonies that echoed with noise pollution, No, not of the X-boxes or computer games but with the little Tendulkars shattering the windowpanes and the neighbors scolding them left and right (which always fell on deaf ears). Amma’s cuisine that was most enjoyable when we’d dine together watching Acha’s old Malayalam movies on Asianet, laughter and cheer would fill the room especially when movies were comically well timed. I yearn to hear Amma’s humming of old hindi songs from the kitchen and Acha’s fingers tapping to the songs of Vayalar Ramavarma.
Over the fence exchange of news and views with the neighbors, where the Kerala aapam and chicken curry was bartered over the fence into the Punjabi house and from there the daal makhani and chiken tikka made its way to our dining table. Our Nagaland neighbor aunty made an indescribable egg chutney; just the thought of it has my taste buds tinkering. Amongst other things that I miss, is my workspace at the National Radio (AIR) broadcasting station. When the clock strikes 8.30pm, the red light outside the studio indicates, live bulletin broadcast and as the music fades out, the microphone
helped me to reach more than a many, as I vocalized, ‘Welcome to this edition of the World News…’
Living up festivals is immensely missed. Getting soaked in the colors of Holi. Satisfying the gluttony for sweets on Eid and Durga Pooja. Sleepless nights we cousins enjoyed, preparing the Tiruvadirakali for Onam. Lighting up the house with diyas, candles and decorating the street with Rangoli, we welcomed Deepavali. Mind you, it was not just the fun and play that I miss but the cultural union that brought us all together. The very soul of this diverse yet amalgam existence is one of the chief things I long for.
So as life’s wheel chugs ahead lost in the dust are the golden memories of a life greatly lived. Hold on!
Such golden memories can never be lost. Thus, I wrap them up and deposit it in a safe corner of my heart as this outlander is all set to make another set of great memories, after all from here on life’s journey does not just have ‘Me’ but my ‘Me’non too. On the foundation of bona fide trust, a little mischief and his hand held in mine, hey world! Make way, for here we come to draft another chapter to the ‘Memories of an
Outlander’.
