I Miss India

I miss India – I miss those little things about my country which made me angry to no ends and saw me hurling abuses at it time and again. Life has its own way of making you realize the value of those little things left unnoticed, ignored somewhere in the past. I miss the local trains of Mumbai which stank of human sweat, I miss the puchka wala with his dirty hand dipping the puchka in the spicy water, I miss sitting on the rickshaw, I miss bargaining for the cheapest of things in the bazaar and felt a sudden thrill running down my spine if I managed even a Rs 5 off, I miss my neighbour’s constant peeps from her window down my bedroom, I miss the bai’s constant grumbling over money - her late husband, her daughter, her brother in law, I miss the flooded roads and the dirt that accumulated after that, I miss the hot humid weather of that place, I miss those cold wars I had with my flat mates, I miss those ‘dead hour of night’ calls from friends just because they wanted to share a stupid joke, I miss the nospace closeness – the comfort of my friends, I miss talking in hindi, I miss a bucket and mug while taking a bath, I miss those hated conversations which lasted for hours, I miss the constant plea in my mom’s voice asking me to eat something, I miss everyone being so bothered about my life. Now that I am far away from it, I miss all of it and the feeling is so overwhelming that suddenly the flood gates of my eyes are thrown open and my soul feels so completely drenched.

There is a coldness about this place which freezes me to death – those silent killing stares as if I am an alien ( I am , am I not ?), the monosyllabic talks, indifference from people of my own country who’ve settled here, asking me what the hell am I doing here? (Suddenly I feel like striking back – I feel like using my venomous tongue and ending it all), the deserted streets at five in the evening? I remember being out with my friends till 3 in the morning, I remember working in the office till 1 in the morning, I remember getting up in the middle of the night and taking my flatmates along to an ice cream parlour to have my favourite vanilla flavour; time here chuckles ‘Catch me if you can’ and all of a sudden I feel like Alice in wonderland ( wonderland isn’t the appropriate word though) – time never felt so limited in my country, the gloomy weather adds to it ( it’s the best since the past 178 years they tell me, huh?)

Is it because I am in such a small city, that I experience this? I question. London will definitely be better. I wonder?

I can still feel the numbness in me when I am out on the streets. Even If I were found dead, no one would know. I would just become one of the unknown faces found dead.

Nothing in world can compare to my country – that’s where my roots are and thats where I belong and no matter where I go and what I do, I will want to come back to my country because home is where the heart is …