Four score minus seventy five years ago, the Saraffs descended from the airplane, landing in Delhi, immediately hit by the sweltering heat of the city.
That was June 27, 2009. After five years in India (which was celebrated with moong dal, Nutrela, and a broken RO system), we have come an amazingly long way. In fact, the whole US part of my life feels like a dream, it has become an unavoidable fact about me, an inevitable truth, but at the same time, it's about as hazy as the fogged mirror that is a result of long, hot, often melodic showers.
But this half decade journey wasn't just about us, it was also about India. My parents returning here after fourteen years, and my brother and I coming to live here for the first time.
Moving from the US to Gurgaon, and finally to Bangalore, I feel like I'm fitting in more and more. Even when I moved to Delhi, there was something comforting in knowing that I was with my fellow Indians, people of my own country and blood. And after coming to Bangalore, I finally experienced the thrill of living in a place where the people speak your mother tongue (even if you barely know it yourself).
Now what can I say about India? It's a mosaic - there are too many people, and too much poverty, and crime, and corruption, and beauty. People are modest, they work hard. And the best thing about living in Bangalore (apart from the whole Kannada-speaking thing) is the diversity. In fact all cities are diverse. There are people from Maharashtra, UP, Delhi, Gujarat. I love that in one classroom, you have people who speak different languages and celebrate different festivals and still, they can all come together and can support RCB (and love Virat Kohli).
I have thought about this a hundred times, and written about it even more - culture, language, travel. But the thing about me is that once a thing fascinates me, it continues to do so for a long time, and I have a feeling I will always be fascinated by India.
India, I am proud to call you mine, and even prouder to say that I'm yours.
That was June 27, 2009. After five years in India (which was celebrated with moong dal, Nutrela, and a broken RO system), we have come an amazingly long way. In fact, the whole US part of my life feels like a dream, it has become an unavoidable fact about me, an inevitable truth, but at the same time, it's about as hazy as the fogged mirror that is a result of long, hot, often melodic showers.
But this half decade journey wasn't just about us, it was also about India. My parents returning here after fourteen years, and my brother and I coming to live here for the first time.
Moving from the US to Gurgaon, and finally to Bangalore, I feel like I'm fitting in more and more. Even when I moved to Delhi, there was something comforting in knowing that I was with my fellow Indians, people of my own country and blood. And after coming to Bangalore, I finally experienced the thrill of living in a place where the people speak your mother tongue (even if you barely know it yourself).
Now what can I say about India? It's a mosaic - there are too many people, and too much poverty, and crime, and corruption, and beauty. People are modest, they work hard. And the best thing about living in Bangalore (apart from the whole Kannada-speaking thing) is the diversity. In fact all cities are diverse. There are people from Maharashtra, UP, Delhi, Gujarat. I love that in one classroom, you have people who speak different languages and celebrate different festivals and still, they can all come together and can support RCB (and love Virat Kohli).
I have thought about this a hundred times, and written about it even more - culture, language, travel. But the thing about me is that once a thing fascinates me, it continues to do so for a long time, and I have a feeling I will always be fascinated by India.
India, I am proud to call you mine, and even prouder to say that I'm yours.
