The homecoming: NRI style

I sit in my apartment in Singapore, reflecting back on the last few weeks. It is hard to write in spite of the deafening stony silence. It's difficult to concentrate although there is no distraction. My ears yearn for the reassuring blare of a rickshaw horn, the singsong sales cries of street vendors and all the buzz of human activity that is taken for granted in India.Yes, I'm just back from India, looking back with fondness at a visit to what will always be 'home'.
As always, a visit to India is one of the most exciting events in the calendar of a NRI. Months of planning, weeks of shopping, days of anticipation,and hoursof counting down-we are set to go to India.
Packing the homebound suitcase is no easy task. Fitting in all the sales bargains that are gifts for sundry relatives, cramming in assorted stopped watches, broken sunglasses, dysfunctional small appliances for hopeful repair, stuffing in the anti-mosquito sprays, hand wipes, anti-bacterial gels until the poor suitcase is bursting at its seams, continues until the last minute.
Checking in at the airport, spotting loads of fellow Indians all boarding the same flight is a great feeling. In the past we always travelled on Air-India, starting the journey on a truly patriotic note- signs in Hindi, airhostesses in sarees, great Indian food - you felt at home well before you got there.
As the plane circles to land, looking out at the lights of India is an exhilarating experience. Through the funny smelling disinfectant that airlines spray before landing, one can take in the unmistakable smell of home. At the airport, the ground staff looks at me as if looking at an alien, until I realize that I am staring at them too. I say 'Thank you' to the man at the immigration desk and he nods back with a slight smile. I ask the man at the door something in Marathi and he is pleased to answer.
Everything seems the same at least on the surface. Except the people- the babies are now school going, the school goers are now in college, stressing over entrance exams, the grown-ups appear older and greyer, the elders are frailer and there are new additions to the family. Friends and relatives expect a change in me- an altered accent, a snooty attitude, a prosperous appearance! I wonder if I meet their expectations.Getting adjusted to the time zone takes a while. Going back from Singapore is easy, but I remember returning from London and feeling jetlagged for days. Sleeping at odd hours and feeling disoriented was part of catching up with another time zone. Sleep deprivation was the reason we remained grumpy for a few days; the intermittent sounds of rickshaw or truck hornsand street dogs fighting just outside the window didn't help. Perhaps that is why our relatives thought we behaved a bit strangely for the first few days.
In the initial days, even the sight of a fly drives us into frenzy; the sight of a mosquito has us sticking on anti-mosquito patches and spraying anti-mosquito spray feverishly, but enthusiastically under tables and in dark corners. We go nowhere without our bottle of mineral water and even use it to brush our teeth. Living abroad has made us fearful of what we used to deal with on a daily basis before we became 'NRIs'. All the street smartness acquired by growing up in India, has faded. I used to pride myself on running after a bus, even managing to catch a few in motion, but now travelling by bus brings up all sorts of phobias and anxieties. Crossing a busy road in India was not a big deal, but now I look around for pedestrian crossings and am reluctant to jaywalk, when I don't find one. A rickshaw ride seems like a rollercoaster ride and I cannot bear to watch the chaotic traffic crisscrossing from all sides. My immunity and tolerance have spiraled downwards. I get a tummy upset easily and start eyeing all outside food suspiciously. My friends admonish me for my ' NRI -like' ways and that is not something I am proud of. I am Indian and want to be at ease in India.
It takes at least a week to calm down. Slowly, I take it all in my stride. I manage to cross busy roads by stopping the traffic with a hand signal, like everyone else. I don't let people behind me get to the rickshaw that is rightfully mine as I hailed it down, first. I even start eyeing the attractive 'chaat' stalls, although I still opt for the ones that offer 'Bisleri' water. Once past these initial fears, we really enjoy ourselves and take in all that coming home to India has to offer.
The biggest reason for coming to India is meet near and dear ones. So hurried visits to or by relatives is a regular feature of our stay. Returning to India after months or usually years, one cannot help feeling like a mini celebrity. Homecoming for us is all about undue attention, photographs, presents and of course everyone going overboard to feed us.
Eating like there is no tomorrow, bordering on pure gluttony is part of the homecoming. Relatives cajole you into trying a new kulfi flavour like 'paan kulfi' or having yet another extra helping of a dish that has been prepared especially for you. A dollop of pure ghee is a must with a lot of delicacies. This year we even gorged on 'modaks' in December, which was a completely decadent luxury! Your pleas that you just cannot eat anymore or that your cholesterol is higher than normal are met with incredulous disbelief."Eat now. Diet when you go back!"is their simple logic and somehow you cannot argue with that. It's true, you do not want to offend your loving relatives; besides where else in the world will anyone extend this kind of hospitality? Of course, you may not get this delicious home cooked food again for a long time, so you might as well indulge.It does not take long to gain a few kilos, thanks to all this fawning cordiality and big-heartedness lavished on you.Yet, you convince yourself that you can always run an extra mile and eat salads for a month when you get back! Then, there are the endless rounds of shopping. From malls to corner shops and street stalls- the shopping continues. Every time we visit India, everything seems more expensive, but a quick mental conversion into dollars or pounds is a consolation that it is much cheaper to buy most things in India. Before long, the suitcase is packed to capacity on it's return journey.
Soon the time to leave India nears. I've enjoyed myself thoroughly and more than anything, the people who are close to me as well as strangers have made me feel special in several ways. I know I've complained about everything; from the pollution, the garbage on the roads, people jumping queues and the vehicles not stopping at red lights. What I cannot complain about is the genuine smiles, the warmth, the love and acceptance of people around me during my stay. I know I am going to miss every single thing about India- right from sipping my mother's strong, sugary, milky tea in the mornings whilst holding a paper copy of the Times of India in my hands, meeting old friends, exciting rickshaw rides through winding streets, haggling with friendly vendors at street stalls, taking photographs of all the sights as if I were a tourist, taking in the sight of various animals on the road without visiting a zoo and sharing fond old memories of these with my child, watching Marathi serials every evening, sounds of street dogs barking, the 'bhandiwala', 'paperwala' 'dahiwala', all animatedly hawking their wares, vehicles blaring out cheesy filmy tunes all of which are now music to my ears. Truly, there was never a dull moment.
After emotional goodbyes with promises to return soon, we find ourselves standing in the line for immigration at the airport. In the queue, I ask myself time and again why I feel the way I do, every time we leave India. I don't really want to leave the place that I belong to, yet the lure of a materialistically better life beckons. If this were a Bollywood film, I would run backwards and never leave. As the immigration officer stamps my passport, I know I've passed the point of no return.
Involuntarily, my feet continue onwards. But,my thoughts continue to overpower me and I have to make an effort to convince myself that I am doing the right thing. Amid tears and confusion,I fly away to the empty, hollowness of creature comforts and modern conveniences of my Singapore apartment. The only way to overcome the overwhelming sense of homesickness is to set another date in the calendar for the next journey back home.