Homecoming

Hiking Samaksan in South Korea

Samarkand, Uzbekistan

Instead of wondering when your next vacation is, maybe you should set up a life you don’t need to escape from. 

– Seth Godin

Like most introverts I like spending most of my time at home. Home is a place where I can dream, be creative, think, and above all — just be. Home is also a concept that I’ve grappled with ever since I left my parents’ home. I’ve lived in and travelled to different places in India and abroad. The feeling of losing my identity (and myself) became more pronounced over the last few years of our expat life in Seoul. As an expat, I chose to make friends with people who I could connect with on a personal level. I didn’t join cliques based on a common linguistic heritage, accent, or physical appearance. My expat friends have made me who I am today and changed my perceptions of any stereotypes that I may have had of them. And I hope to have done the same for them.

Taking a break along the Han River, Seoul

Gearing to climb (or not) Samaksan, South Korea

But change can be hard. Being different is twice as hard. The isolation (especially in a foreign country) during the first two years of the pandemic made me question the concept of ‘home’ versus ‘a place where I could belong’. I felt like I was living two different lives. Our apartment became our ‘home’ our ‘safe-space’ from everything that was happening around us. It was a ‘bio-bubble’ or ‘sanitized-fortress’ from the unknown virus raging outside. It was our haven for endless hours of Netflix binges, a sanctum that reminded us of our cultural heritage and roots, and a space to help nurture our creativity. However, the minute we stepped outside, it all changed. We were (masked) foreigners in a foreign land, barely speaking the local language, and the yearning to unite with the people we loved grew with each passing moment. Read more here.

Han River, Seoul

Mapo Hangang River, Seoul

The thought of leaving a place that we called ‘home’ for six years was hard — even if — it meant I would have a shot at finding a place that I could belong. The reasons to leave were compelling. Mum topped the long list of reasons to go back. At the same time, the thought of boarding multiple flights to make that long trip back to a place where I belonged — was terrifying. The math was reduced to a number of favourable permutations and combinations — peppered with ample hope in divine intervention. It’s ironic how travel used to excite me prior to 2020. It all changed after two years of isolation. Our last plane ride was in December 2019 (to Uzbekistan) and shortly afterwards we were trapped in Seoul. It takes a lot of mental preparation to overcome fear and anxiety. The pandemic didn’t do much for my mental health, but I also knew: the minute I stepped on that plane, I would triumph — fear would lose.

Deserted Narita Airport, Japan

Exactly two years later, in December 2021, we boarded a plane to take us back to India. The finality with submitting our alien registration cards at Immigration was a bit hard to digest. Incheon Airport was empty and everyone was masked. Omicron had just been detected in South Korea and we knew our timing to go back was right. The paperwork was daunting and travel restrictions could change without prior notice. There were just two options to go back to India from South Korea. Direct charter flights were unpredictable and we opted for a connecting flight via Tokyo. We would have to fly an additional two hours and wait for over six hours (in Tokyo) before our flight to Bangalore, India. Tokyo Airport was deserted and we couldn’t find a soul/robot to help us find our terminal to the connecting flight. Honestly, I don’t know how we did find the Japanese Airlines (JAL) counter to issue our boarding passes to Bangalore. The Japanese are known to be thorough and checked our paperwork (including Air Suvidha Form, vaccination certificates, and COVID test results)for a good time. We had to fill a couple fo additional forms to declare why we were travelling back home. The wait was excruciating.

Somewhere in Bangalore

Our flight to Bangalore took about 10 hours and it was difficult to sleep with the mask at night. There were moments I woke up breathless and gasping for air. We reached Bangalore in the wee hours of the morning. Immigration was more organised despite the Omicron scare and our paperwork was checked again with great care. We took a cab to a hotel located at the outer ring road. For the first time in two years — I felt at peace. After six years, we weren’t legal ‘aliens’ but citizens of our own country. I felt like I belonged. The next day, we hired a cab to my hometown (Mangalore). The drive took about eight hours and the circuitous route took us through Bangalore’s IT Hub before diverging to the lush green countryside. We finally reached my paternal ancestral home after a collective travel time of three days.

Palm, Banana, Mango, and Jackfruit Trees

Expat life is glamorous to most people who have never left their ‘home’. The illusion that life on the other side is better has been perpetuated for generations before I was born. In reality, expat life is harder than most people think it is. The isolation can really get to you in a pandemic and a mask can rule out any opportunity to find a warm smile. I thought most of my extended family and friends would be happy that we took the decision to come back. However, we faced a wave of mixed opinions. Although, many were happy to see us back, the vast majority of people felt that we hadn’t made a wise decision. I was tired explaining the logic behind it all because I never thought they would ever get the emotional turmoil that I had been through. I’m surprised how mental health is still pushed under the rug and only physical appearances matter.

Colourful Roses in my parents’ garden

I never chose to become a caregiver to mum (and dad). I don’t think any child would ever count that as a choice. However, I did make a conscious decision to be there for mum whenever she would need me. It was a tough decision because it took a lot from me. Now don’t get me wrong. Neither am I complaining or wallowing in self-pity, because if I look at the bright side — I always discovered something new in the process and I’m truly grateful for my life and all the experiences I’ve had. I fell in love with writing, started this blog, and above all, explored the world without succumbing to my anxieties. After having spent most of my life as a pessimist — I’ve become an unlikely optimist who chooses not to live in regrets.

Weaver Ants

White-throated Kingfisher

Common Tailor Bird

I spent the first five months, of 2022, trying to organise my parents’ house. Simultaneously, I worked on mum’s mobility with a dedicated physiotherapist. The results were painfully slow and the resistance to change wasn’t easy. Basil spent most of his time in Bombay (Mumbai) either to visit his family, for work, or renovate our apartment for rent. I barely left the house in these months. The front and backyards were my escape from the turmoil within. The feeling of being ‘lost’ was hard to ignore and I tried to divert my energies to nature. I started spotting and identifying rare birds (including the purple sunbird and black drongo) in the garden. By May, we had found two people to help my parents with house chores (and the garden), mum was walking without a stick, and we were ready to move into an apartment about 10 minutes from the main house.

Giant Indian Spider (Seriously don’t know what this is!)

Rat Snake

Mongoose

Indian Palm Squirrel

My observations, in the garden, made me appreciate the effort my parents had put in preserving an oasis of natural diversity — in the midst of rapid concrete development around them. I could see how plants and animals flourished in this green paradise. I had spotted more birds and wildlife in my paternal ancestral property than some of the safaris that we’d been on. However, not all encounters were welcome especially those involving animal/reptile house invasion. Rats and bats had found a way to penetrate through the mesh on the windows. A snake had found its way inside a hole that was created and it broke my heart that it had to be killed because it was hidden between stairs.

Water babies

A blanket worm (local name) chomps away

It takes some time to re-adjust to a three-season climate from a four-season climate. The southern parts of India (barring hill-stations) are hot even in winter and the annual monsoon spell is the only time when one can truly cool down. In May, just as we were preparing for our first trip to the northern Himalayan mountain towns, a spell of rain caused mangoes to fall on the tiles in the front yard. On the eve of our departure, dad slipped on a mango peel, and broke his tibia. Thankfully, he had no other injury. Life is truly unpredictable.

Asian Female Koel

Crow Pheasant or Greater Coucal

Red-whiskered Bulbul

“If I cease searching, then, woe is me, I am lost. That is how I look at it – keep going, keep going come what may.” 

― Vincent van Gogh, The Letters of Vincent van Gogh

Dad’s surgery took a couple of hours and the metal rod would ensure he could walk/hop (with a walker)within two days. True healing took about a month and it wasn’t before a couple of months that he could walk without a walker. With dad’s fall, mum’s health also took a turn and she had go back to the walker. I don’t want to remember those months, but I don’t think I would ever be able to forget them either. There were days I tried practicing gratitude and found happiness by spending time with my parents. And there were days, where it got so bad that I felt like I was losing myself to a void of haplessness.

Mount Mary Church, Bandra, Mumbai

Bandra Bandstand Promenade, Mumbai

Requiem by Tanmay Banerjee, Bandra Bandstand, Mumbai

Carter Road, Bandra, Mumbai

Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving. 

– Terry Pratchett

Where are you from? I’ve got that question no matter where I went. One might argue it’s quite an innocuous question, but for me, it’s rather complicated. It’s a question that I’m still trying to find an answer. Do I come from the place where I was born, or spent my childhood, or the many places that I lived as an adult? Where do I really come from?

After nearly nine months of returning back to India, I could finally make the trip to the city that has contributed to a major part of who I am. Bombay (as most of us call it) or Mumbai had changed beyond recognition. Thankfully, Bandra (the queen of the suburbs and abode to Bollywood celebrities) had managed to retain its quiet charm. I spent my childhood here and it’s one of the reasons why I love the sea so much. I love walking through the quaint roads and soaking in the nostalgia of my childhood. For me, it’s the closest that I have come to finding a place where I belonged.

Juhu, Mumbai

Versova Rocks, Mumbai

Versova Rocks, Mumbai

“So, here you are
too foreign for home
too foreign for here. 
Never enough for both.” 

― Ijeoma Umebinyuo, Questions for Ada

As you go towards the northern suburbs (now rapidly dominated by office spaces and towering residential complexes) the chaos is hard to escape. The constant buzz of horns and impatient cars could make anyone have a meltdown in traffic. Fortunately, the Arabian Sea offers respite from the constant noise and the waves crashing on the shore create the perfect lullaby. Our apartment had undergone multiple renovations and was finally ready for rent. We spent a month there to relive our life before Seoul. I connected with my old friends who seemed to be the same. I realised that I was the one who had changed.

Bandra-Worli Sea Link, Mumbai

Worli Sea Face, Mumbai

No trip to Bombay would be complete without a visit to South Bombay. The older (more expensive)part of the city is peppered with colonial architecture and landmark buildings are reminiscent of a different time. It’s where I spent my early twenties pursuing my undergraduate education. However, the entrance to South Bombay (from Worli) is now a sharp contrast to what I used to remember. Jagged glass buildings and towering skyscrapers dwarf nuggets of an older Bombay. There are few resemblances to Shanghai (the prototype), but having lived in Shanghai, I know it will take another decade to achieve 50% of its development.

Bombay: The Good Bay

Bombay: The Good Bay

The Konkan Coast

Outskirts of Mangalore

How do we see our life in India? We plan to keep my hometown as a base (to be close to my parents) and will travel to Bombay to spend time with Basil’s family and our friends. We also plan to explore India extensively and thank goodness it’s such a diverse country (in language, culture, food, and geography).

Have I found a place where I belong? Honestly, I still feel a little lost. Most of our trips will be an attempt to understand how India has changed in the past 10 years and to reconnect with our own diverse cultural heritage. We’ve ditched our bikes for a SUV and plan to explore places that are off the regular tourist map. We’ve already done a road trip to some popular hill-stations (Maharashtra), visited Basil’s paternal hometown — Goa, and done a mammoth 6500 KM drive from Mangalore (Karnataka – South India) to Fagu (Himachal Pradesh – North India)). I will alternate between our travels in Korea and India. Hopefully, somewhere along the way, I will find myself, and a place where I truly belong.