After finishing college I worked in computer firms for 2 years, and spent a year in US on the same work. Then I retired. To my village.
The year in US was revealing in many ways. To me it was just a stay to earn some money. I knew that after that my next phase would begin, of 'searching for a village'.
To almost everyone else there from India it was the beginning of a new life in a chosen world. A world much desired. And I watched as they tried to adapt. Changed clothing to fit in. Changed accents to fit in. Changed themselves to belong.
And I was aware of my own reaction. My workplace dress was stubbornly salwar kameez chunni in a sea of skirts and shorts and trousers. And as the year wore on it moved to sarees.
My accent became more and more Indian. My English developed a Tamil accent that it had never had.
I was never happier than when I set foot on my soil again. Have never stepped out of this country after that. Never stepped into a plane after that.
The desh, the bhoomi, the land, claims its own. In many ways.
No comments:
Post a Comment