Nostalgia

My world, my mind and my space. Its like this high tech digital interface you hear about these days. It can be filled with all kinds of things and then one swoosh resets everything and its ready to be filled with fresh thoughts and sensations all over again.
But now i have started to think about some things i never hoped i would ever have to confront. Everytime i read a book about my "Desh", I have this intense nostalgia that grips me. Today, i sat on a toilet on campus, holding the cheap toilet paper while i wept at the saddest moment in the book - The Namesake. A few months ago i wept at the Chennai girl trying to marry the Punjabi boyfriend in "2 states". Just the description of the city Madras brought tears into my eyes. I agree, its not perfect. But, that famous canopy of trees on the road we used to drive through, is a picture that has been imprinted in my mind forever. It signified another day full of travel, shopping, food and meeting relatives or family friends. We braved fishmongers and their stinking baskets that accompanied us all the way along the ride.The bus would drop us off in the morning and my Dad would always open up a long list of things to be done. It began with a trip to the "bra and jatties" shop a.k.a the lingerie store. He would give my Mom all the money she needed for this part of our shopping and then step onto a different floor of the Mall in the most dignified manner. Yes, we were very secretive about this and buying sanitary napkins. The bags that we got with all our "stuff", we turned inside out so no one knew we bought lingerie. And the sanitary napkins, we wrapped in newspaper. Yes, here i was, a grown women well past her puberty trying to prove i never ever used a sanitary napkin or wore a bra. The same way we continue to keep sex in the closet and deny the fact that someones gotta be doing it quite a bit, if our population is over a billion. The contradictions define who we were and how we felt about some of these things. I didnt like it. Chennai was also the city where i boarded a train. Where i embarked on a journey that would change me forever. I made some of the best friends on this very first train journey.
When i left for Grad School, I was young. I was brazen and wanted my independence. I wanted to be able to wear anything, say anything and do as i pleased. I was angry with the interference in my life. I was angry that my parents disapproved of my talking to the one person who meant something then. And just because he was from a different caste. The day i left, I didnt cry. I usually never do. It hits me much later. Like it hit me when i went home for my wedding and listened to my sister's voice. I miss her singing. I wish I had spent more time with her when i was home.
Somehow i seem to realize that more money and more 'stuff' only brings more worries. Every generation has gotten richer but i dont know how the simplicity in all of their lives is lost. I still think that whatever i wanted to say is true. I need my freedom and i need my ideas to live with me. But i dont think i can find comfort in a fake How are You in the Elevators. I dont know if i can un-foreign myself ever again. I suppose i can never ask a school if they have established fire evacuation plans or expect for a delightful customer service technician on the phone or get to the airport in 8 minutes cruising at 75 mph on a designated lane. But I wouldnt have to ever spell my name out and i would be able to sit on the beach with my family. I would be able to listen to Classical music concerts (which i still believe is one of the most complex things to master) and dress up in real prints. I dont know if it is something that i can get back to. I know a lot of people who didnt make it. For now its a dream.....

PS : Have still not finished Anna Karenina. I bet it will keep me busy for a bit. Have been on a reading spree. The other book i finished was Little Bee. BRILLIANT is the word. I wish my thesis would beckon.