I have at last bid farewell to India, and come home. However, the thread of my story did not stop at the departure gate, but continues on uninhibited, having only changed course.
To analyze this ending, I must first recall the beginning: My first few days in India.
After fully recovering my senses, I was struck by the many aspects of life in the U.S. I had always taken for granted. Things like organized traffic, responsible police and sanitation forces, balanced societies and, when held in comparison, a government that does its job, all came to mind. There I was, catapulted into a new land where none of these existed in the same way, or at all, which led me to think, “How can this be?”
During those 11 months, that question faded from my mind and was replaced with “This is just how it is.” But only someone who has lived for an extended period of time in India, a country as known for its magnificent culture as for its deep-rooted destitution, could attain that level of understanding. That realization requires immense patience, whether it be to love the country or just to get by there, and even someone endowed with that virtue may find it a challenge. With time, I learned to move through India’s many paradoxes and hypocrisies, but no sooner did that happen than I arrived back home on the other side of the world; back in a place where I find myself thinking, “How can this be?” all over again.
When I returned to the U.S. I viewed my native home with the astonished eyes of a foreigner, filled with wonder at each new turn. I felt as if I was some tourist, coming to behold the grandeur and excess of America for a few days, then sure to go back to where I had come from. Not so.