There & Back Again - Two Years In Bangalore
“You know, you really should capture your initial thoughts about what it feels like to move back to the States on paper” remarked Sanjay. “Write about them when the thoughts and feelings are still fresh.” I agreed distractedly, mentally filing that idea in the already bursting “Plans that either come to naught, or half a page of scribbled lines…” section.
It was the evening of January 9th, 2006 and I was doing my final round of goodbyes. The movers had come and gone, and in the brief space of two days, transformed our lovely home of the last two years back into just another house, empty, bare, and unbearably sad. We were all packed, making final shopping forays to fill whatever space remained in our suitcases, and grabbing bites at our favorite eateries (soup and salad at Sunny’s for Divya, mutton biriyani and Guntur chicken at RR for me).
There was a sense of detachment and numbness, a surreal acceptance that tomorrow life would continue just as it always had in Bangalore, but suddenly everything would be different for us as we winged our way back to Seattle, to continue a life we had left behind, in a home almost frozen in time.
And so we departed early the next morning, closing the book on a period in our lives that we had begun with a million doubts, and ended up enjoying more than we ever imagined possible. On the flight, I found myself thinking about what Sanjay had said, and I realized he was right – writing about one’s experiences made sense only if it was fresh enough to capture those fleeting, sometimes disjointed thoughts that race through our minds as things happen in real time. I would do it.
However, this decision also unwittingly unleashed The Beast. As friends, family and co-workers who know me well can attest, I am not readily given to pithy phrases, succinct explanations, and simply communicating “the gist”. I prefer instead the long, verbally grandiose form, and when in doubt, to begin with the singularity, lest the reader lose any thread in the plot. Hence the somewhat Tolkien-esque title for this travelogue, if that is indeed what it is.
To Be Continued...
It was the evening of January 9th, 2006 and I was doing my final round of goodbyes. The movers had come and gone, and in the brief space of two days, transformed our lovely home of the last two years back into just another house, empty, bare, and unbearably sad. We were all packed, making final shopping forays to fill whatever space remained in our suitcases, and grabbing bites at our favorite eateries (soup and salad at Sunny’s for Divya, mutton biriyani and Guntur chicken at RR for me).
There was a sense of detachment and numbness, a surreal acceptance that tomorrow life would continue just as it always had in Bangalore, but suddenly everything would be different for us as we winged our way back to Seattle, to continue a life we had left behind, in a home almost frozen in time.
And so we departed early the next morning, closing the book on a period in our lives that we had begun with a million doubts, and ended up enjoying more than we ever imagined possible. On the flight, I found myself thinking about what Sanjay had said, and I realized he was right – writing about one’s experiences made sense only if it was fresh enough to capture those fleeting, sometimes disjointed thoughts that race through our minds as things happen in real time. I would do it.
However, this decision also unwittingly unleashed The Beast. As friends, family and co-workers who know me well can attest, I am not readily given to pithy phrases, succinct explanations, and simply communicating “the gist”. I prefer instead the long, verbally grandiose form, and when in doubt, to begin with the singularity, lest the reader lose any thread in the plot. Hence the somewhat Tolkien-esque title for this travelogue, if that is indeed what it is.
To Be Continued...
posted by Krish @ Sunday, February 26, 2006
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