“There’s a certain nostalgia and romance in a place you left.”-David Guterson

I was born and raised in India before moving to the United States in my mid-twenties to pursue higher education. If you have been reading my writings, you may already be aware of this. I grew up in India in the nineties just before globalization took hold. Three and a half decades gone by, yet it feels just like yesterday. I grew up in an era when life was simpler with no mobile phones or tablets, high speed wifi, Netflix, Mcdonalds or social media, and we, as children, could find happiness in the simpler things like making paper boats in the rain, playing FLAMES with our friends, watching Ramayana or Mahabharata on the TV with the entire family, or getting new clothes once a year during Durga Puja, our biggest festival. Fast forward to 2012- I boarded a flight to come to this country, leaving my roots behind and embracing a new culture in an unknown land with the hope of building a new life here.

How do you explain the emotional aspect of immigration to someone who has lived their entire life in one place, surrounded by the same people? It somewhat resembles a wound that never gets better. The raw pain from the wound reminds you of your motherland, the home you grew up in, the aromas of the shukto and macher jhol prepared by your mother that cannot be replaced anywhere else. Whatsapp or Facetime cannot proxy for the favorite places in your childhood city, conversing with people in your mother tongue, or being able to hug your parents. The crippling dread of missing out and becoming irrelevant in the lives of your near and dear ones while you are gone. However, with time, as you train yourself to love and accustom yourself to the new place, immerse yourself in the new culture and build a new life with new friends who now are family, the wound somewhat heals, but the scar tissue remains serving as a memory of your former life. It also reminds you of the courage- without which you could not have traveled this path and made it; the roadblocks you encountered and overcame and how they molded you into who you are at present.

People often ask me, “do you like it better in the US?” “Don’t you miss your family in India?” And it’s not easy to answer. Having two places to call home on different sides of the world has been a privilege, a roller coaster adventure as well as a struggle. But after moving two countries and four cities, I have realized that the concept of home is very abstract and can mean a lot of things. It does not need to be a specific zip code. You can create a home anywhere in the earth. It’s just a vessel where you create beautiful memories with the people you love. My childhood home in India, where I grew up with my parents and have countless fond memories, will always be my home. However, I have made each of the American cities I have lived in thus far my home too. Yes, there are and will continue to be days when I wonder if it is worth it. There are moments when I wish to leave everything here and go back to my childhood home in my motherland. But then I also remember that this feeling of heaviness in my chest is the consequence of some of the bravest choices I have made to build a better life for myself and that it’s just part of the package. And that, without it, I would not be the person I am today.