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| The green one (which is potentially overweight) carries solely presents I have bought in India. The purple is all of my personal possesions that have survived this semester. Navy blue has a few fragile gifts I need to carry on. The backpack is entertainment and snacks for my scarily close 20 hour journey. |
Despite this rational contentment, my heart and my gut are still a confused jumble of longing. Part of me longs so powerfully to be back home in Garrett Park. I long for the love of my family and friends that have known me longer than a few months. I long to hug my parents and my dog and my down comforter. I long for the smells that surrounded me for the first twenty years of my life. I long for the tastes that I used to think were the only ones out there. I long for the easy security of everyday life in America, which I will never again take for granted.
At the same time, I cannot long to leave this program, this family, this country when I don't know if/when I will be back. It is so strange to say I am going "home" when all semester, thats exactly what the Ramanan household has been. This isn't a temporary dorm room, where I paste some photos on cinderblocks and called it my own. This is a house full of history and memories. This is a household of interdependent individuals that learn together and eat together and laugh together and love together and don't go to sleep without saying goodnight. This is a family of which I am now a part.
This semester, Meghana sent me this catchy song ("I Get Lost In My Mind" by The Head and the Heart). I liked it so much that I kept the youtube window open for two straight weeks and played it over and over and over. Then, I was listening to my ipod one day and the song suddenly started playing even though I never downloaded it... Coincidentally, Kyla had included it on a playlist she had made me! The stars were alined for me and this melody. The greater album is one of a handful that became the soundtrack to my semester, and I will never be able to hear certain songs without flashing back to my evening walks around the neighborhood. On a recent stroll, the familiar song came on and I suddenly heard one particular line with new meaning. Tears rushed to my eyes, flush rushed to my cheeks, and chills rushed up the back of my neck. Now, I think the song actually portrays my feelings better than my own words:
"Momma once told me
You're already home where you feel loved
I am lost in my mind
I get lost in my mind"
I feel so loved by Auntie and Uncle and Dugra-ma and my housemates and CIEE staff and my co-volunteers. I am going home, but I am already home in India. I am lost in my mind.
As goodbye gifts, Auntie and Uncle gave Suzanne, Kyla, and I each a little brass bell. Uncle has a similar one that he uses during his morning prayer rituals, so the sound of its little jingle will always bring my senses back to the experiences of India. They said that if we are in America missing India and just ring this little brass bell, they'll hear it and come running to us. I don't know how they knew that that is exactly what I need right now. Some magical bridge between Garrett Park and Hyderabad. Some way to connect my two homes. A guarantee that this isn't really goodbye, just a see you later. Phir Melenge.
To all my loyal followers, thanks for patiently listening to me make meaning out of these months of madness. I hope you have enjoyed reading these postings as much as I have thoroughly enjoyed writing them. Its the end of one chapter and the start of a new one. America, here I come!
