So far I haven't really thought of Mayapur as home. Maybe its because I haven't had an apartment of my own - moving one place to the other, or maybe its because this trip has an expiry date and I know when I'm going back. Maybe its because everything is different and not what I'm used to - the weather, the food, the people... Maybe its just because I don't feel at home. Is that offensive to say? I feel like there are devotees all around the world that would love to call Mayapur home, and therefore am I completely out of line by saying I, myself, don't feel at home? Do I really long for the cold NZ winters and the expensive and chaotic way of life?
At the same time however, I don't really think of Christchurch as home now either (don't kill me fellow Cantabrians!) mostly becasue of all the changes going on there too. This morning I was sent a before and after shot of the inner city outdoor mall - Cashel Mall, and the difference between the two photos is incredible... its almost like the "after" shot could be a "before the buildings were built" shot. There's nothing left. What kind of city will I be going back to and do I really want to go back there? The photos made me a little sad, and thats when I wondered to myself: Where is home for me?
Standing out on my parents balcony tonight I thought about this. For as long as I know, I've been a New Zealander, born and bred Cantabrian, down under, no, not Australia, the little island next to it, I'm a kiwi. But does that mean I'm supposed to stay there forever and always call that home? I'm enjoying myself too much here to want to go back home. This is home now, this is where my heart and my life is. How I long for it to be that way forever.
I'm almost halfway through my "1 year in India", and already the next six months are making me feel claustrophobic. I'm already missing the bus ride to the Jagannath Mandir, Indians staring in my direction, chattering around me (and about me), the boat ride to Navadwipa in the early hours of the morning, the sun peeking over the hills promising a scorcher of a day. I'm already missing Goswami ghat and swimming with the buffaloes, wandering down to Nimai's shop for a half a kg of paneer or a dozen lemons. The quiet walk to the hati park and to visit my brother on a Sunday, the busy offices of the ToVP and the morning knock on the door of Uttam the dudh-wallah. I don't want to say goodbye.
At the same time however, I don't really think of Christchurch as home now either (don't kill me fellow Cantabrians!) mostly becasue of all the changes going on there too. This morning I was sent a before and after shot of the inner city outdoor mall - Cashel Mall, and the difference between the two photos is incredible... its almost like the "after" shot could be a "before the buildings were built" shot. There's nothing left. What kind of city will I be going back to and do I really want to go back there? The photos made me a little sad, and thats when I wondered to myself: Where is home for me?
Standing out on my parents balcony tonight I thought about this. For as long as I know, I've been a New Zealander, born and bred Cantabrian, down under, no, not Australia, the little island next to it, I'm a kiwi. But does that mean I'm supposed to stay there forever and always call that home? I'm enjoying myself too much here to want to go back home. This is home now, this is where my heart and my life is. How I long for it to be that way forever.
I'm almost halfway through my "1 year in India", and already the next six months are making me feel claustrophobic. I'm already missing the bus ride to the Jagannath Mandir, Indians staring in my direction, chattering around me (and about me), the boat ride to Navadwipa in the early hours of the morning, the sun peeking over the hills promising a scorcher of a day. I'm already missing Goswami ghat and swimming with the buffaloes, wandering down to Nimai's shop for a half a kg of paneer or a dozen lemons. The quiet walk to the hati park and to visit my brother on a Sunday, the busy offices of the ToVP and the morning knock on the door of Uttam the dudh-wallah. I don't want to say goodbye.
Don't. Just stay :)
ReplyDeleteThat was beautiful Radha....I think we all think like that, whether it's home or not....I don't have any other home: Mayapur is the place I have lived in longer than anywhere else in my life. After a decade, it's definitely my home. But still all those things go thru my head when I stand on my roof at night and wonder if this place has actually opened its doors to me, or whether I'm soon going to be ejected....
Oh it's amazing you can stand on your roof at night :))
ReplyDeleteI definitely think about home.
But also, going away looking for it, afraid of finding it or is it just something else hidden there?
what is home anyway ?
maybe its not about home but the lack of something else that makes you talk about this.