Its one o clock in the morning and I'm still awake. Conventional wisdom would suggest I go to sleep. Not enough sleep would probably mean a less productive tommorrow. Not for me. Being a mother, I'm inherently programmed to wake up at 6:45am every morning. And I've done all the great deeds of my life being tired, broke or sleep-deprived(sounds scary!).
I've been thinking about family, home, roots and culture. Perhaps because its so close to my upcoming visit to India (after a gap of three years). The mind imagines the reunion with the family, the glowing faces, the tears of joy.
There is nothing like home. For so long have I missed the strolls along those streets strewn with idle shops, tiny but uncluttered, ugly but charming. The roadside thelaas selling the spiciest bhelpuris and the yummiest egg-rolls. The magic madness of the tuesday haats. Thin street-vendors nagging every passing tourist. Brightest saris. Hot pink sindoor. Neon bangles. Loud uncles and warning auntis. Back bending pranaams to every visiting relative. Endlessly running soaps beginning with "K"s. How can anyone not miss all that ? After all, a part of me still remains there. Isn't it ?
I'm pondering over this question, whether a part of me really yearns for the roots, or do I just miss the familiar images. Or are those two really the same ? Do I really yearn so much for what I've left behind, or am I just craving a surreal image of a real but slightly forgotten past ?
I've been thinking about family, home, roots and culture. Perhaps because its so close to my upcoming visit to India (after a gap of three years). The mind imagines the reunion with the family, the glowing faces, the tears of joy.
There is nothing like home. For so long have I missed the strolls along those streets strewn with idle shops, tiny but uncluttered, ugly but charming. The roadside thelaas selling the spiciest bhelpuris and the yummiest egg-rolls. The magic madness of the tuesday haats. Thin street-vendors nagging every passing tourist. Brightest saris. Hot pink sindoor. Neon bangles. Loud uncles and warning auntis. Back bending pranaams to every visiting relative. Endlessly running soaps beginning with "K"s. How can anyone not miss all that ? After all, a part of me still remains there. Isn't it ?
I'm pondering over this question, whether a part of me really yearns for the roots, or do I just miss the familiar images. Or are those two really the same ? Do I really yearn so much for what I've left behind, or am I just craving a surreal image of a real but slightly forgotten past ?
Comments
and ofcourse, at the same time, make u miss your home here too...so that u r happy to come back :D.
Have a pleasant trip:) The chaos of our home country is such a beautiful thing:)