Back to India

I’m going to be in India soon. 9 days to be exact. At this time, in 9 days, I will be with my family and in my childhood home. I could not be more excited.

Going back to India feels a little like going on vacation but simultaneously going back home. It’s really odd. This is a place I spent 21 years of my life in, and returning, I will be a stranger of sorts. I will not be used to the crowds anymore, or the traffic, or the sounds. I will not be used to the way the buildings look, or the social norms, or the language. This is not to say that I’ve forgotten these things, I never could. But I am now accustomed to a different way of life. And that’s strange. Nevertheless, I’m so excited to experience the absolute bustle that life in India is. My home brimming with energy and noise. My mum always trying to communicate with me from 3 rooms away, my dad lounging in his office chair, and my little brother making weird noises because that’s just the way he is.

I’m going to return to them as a guest of sorts. I’ll be living out of my suitcase, my room is no longer my room, and my wardrobe is no longer my wardrobe. The space I used to take up in my home is now replaced. There is no space that is ‘just mine’ there anymore. Sure, I have my boxes of books, memories, and Indian clothing. But these things were packed and put away when I left. Out of sight, out of mind.

I get to see my art supplies again, oh my god, I get to use my art supplies again! I have gone a year and a half without minor artistic projects once in a while. That is crazy to me. I love art. I never purchased a canvas, or a sketchbook, or supplies here. I don’t why. I think it’s easy to get caught up in this new life where I don’t do art. But I’m excited to return to it in India. And I’m excited to bring it back home with me.

I’m looking forward to seeing my friends, sure. But damn, the food. The food. Street food, South Indian restaurants, my mother’s cooking. These are things to live for.

There’s so much I want to say about my trip and my anticipation. My mind is buzzing with thoughts, but my words fail me. Maybe I’ll write again.