There was a smile on my face and a song in my heart.
It was my first trip to India after eight months in the US, the longest time I had ever been away from home, from my country. The earthy scent of rain greeted me as soon as I stepped out of the Bangalore airport, bringing with it a wave of nostalgia. The honking of vehicles and shouts of street vendors was like music to the ears. Even the large ugly billboards lining the roads on either side seemed endearing. I was excited to be back, living in the moment, feeling every breath, collecting beautiful memories with friends and family that would last forever.
However, there were times when I couldn’t help but draw parallels between the strikingly different lifestyles that I led here in India and there in the US. These weren’t comparisons but mere astonishment at how one could simultaneously relate to such widely different ways of life.
Here I was, squatting on the ground, having delicious home-made tambuli and chutney out of a plantain leaf. Could it be any more distinct from the deep dish cheese pizzas and enchiladas that I relished there? Here I was, lying on a hand woven jute charpai cot, watching the coconut trees sway in the wind, the moon playing with the clouds and the stars of the majestic constellation of Scorpio rising in the sky. Could it be any more distinct from the comfort of the memory foam mattress and glow in the dark stars glittering on the ceiling of my bedroom there? Here I was, buying lime peppermints from a small departmental store that seemed to have everything from groceries to medicines to cosmetics packed compactly in a modestly sized room. Could it be any more distinct from the aisles and aisles of commodities that I could choose from in the palatial outlets of Walmart and Target? Here I was, basking in the brusque affection and hospitality of neighbours and friends. Could it be any more distinct from the refined goodwill and courteousness of people there?
Sometimes these differences stuck me so hard that I was momentarily lost, unable to define my own identity, my self-image becoming a hazy blur in the distance. Who was I? How could I switch back and forth from being a small town girl in the interior of Karnataka to an uptown girl of California? Was I like the chameleon, which adapted and became one with its surroundings in the blink of an eye? The example somehow seemed inadequate. As I scoured my brain for a better analogue, I remembered the herrings and the salmons. Maybe I was more like the fish which migrated downstream to regions of abundant resources but was ultimately drawn to home odors upstream, to the place where it was born, to the place where its life began. Before I knew, the flight landed in San Francisco and I remembered how eager I was to get back to my research.
There was a smile on my face and a spring in my step.
About the author:
Shwetha completed her PhD from the Indian Institute of Science and is currently a postdoctoral researcher in the Department of Microbiology and Immunology at Stanford university. She is considering a career in the biotech industry but is irreversibly drawn towards the charm of academia. Amidst all the confusion she is trying to articulate her feelings and experiences in a new country through writing.
Featured image: Vinita Bharat
