I've been home now for almost exactly two weeks. It has been wonderful to see family and friends, to get settled into my house again, cuddle my pets, and enjoy my sunny-but-not-scorching home town. I suppose most things have gone well. I am happy to be back, and at least work-wise, so glad that everything worked out; I was beginning to get desperate. But, on the flip side, I do miss my Indian family, a ton.
I left my old HP laptop with the boys at the house, so Aarif checks in with me daily on gTalk. Manik took his tip money and bought a cell phone, so even he calls me from time to time. Sometimes the modern world is amazingly small, and it's both wonderful and creepy to be able to keep such close contact with them. People from the office ping me occasionally, when they're online late at night, so it's easy to stay in touch that way, and every now and again, I talk on the phone with Devindar.
Everyone has a different reaction when they leave home, and visiting India always makes it's own unique impression. I think most people are eager to leave the chaos and beauty of India, because it's overwhelming to many of us who weren't brought up in that type of culture. For me, it's the opposite. More than anything, since I've been back, I have this nagging fear that I'll lose what I learned in India, my Hindi will slip, my taste for the fiery spices will wane, my ability to understand (somewhat) and integrate into Indian culture will evaporate. I feel, sometimes, as if exiled. I think India somehow helped me develop another sense, an intuition or awareness that I'm desperate to hold on to. Or, perhaps it's the relationships with friends, colleagues...Somehow, I managed to feel that I belonged there, and I miss that. I seem to get particularly nostalgic on Sundays. Yesterday, I was running errands and shopping when I should have been unpacking boxes, and I found myself missing Devindar and having him along with me for the Delhi version of this Sunday ritual. I called him, just to say 'hi' and catch up on all of the news and notes from Gurgaon. The same thing happened last Sunday - maybe it always will.
My first week back at work, I ran into a colleague in the cafe who had also spent over a year in India. She asked me if I was glad to be back to American food and commented that she didn't think she'd had Indian food in the three plus years since she'd been back. While I understand the sentiment, that is not how I feel. Afraid that I might at some point, I went searching for a good Indian grocer and bought a full range of masalas, chili and cumin powder, green cardamom, dosa mix, my favorite Indian cookies "Nice Time", and some plaintain chips. A culinary cultural transfusion, performed right here in Sunnyvale. Now, I just have to use them; wish me luck.
You often hear Indians being nostalgic about their homeland, or pining for tastes and flavors that you can only get in India. That always seemed somewhat odd to me, or over-the-top, because especially in the polyglot Bay Area, we have almost everything. Now, though, I think I understand a little. It's not a rational thing. It's not that you can't get garam masala, or chicken tikka, or even alphonsus mangos. It's not that you won't hear Hindi spoken or meet Indians. It's the fear that you'll forget. Forget the tastes, the flavors, the smells, the history, the chaos, and the embraces of your family and friends. So, my American family will have to forgive me if I'm reluctant to stamp the Indian dust from my shoes, if the most natural response to a question still comes out as "ha," and if Sunday evenings make me a little sad from time to time.
