-The Roots that Count-
As a kid, I'd be fascinated by the pictures of the spick-&-span streets and everything to do with the "foreign lands" as I called them. Upon landing on that foreign soil as an adult, the glossy picture I painted as a kid held true when it came to the transport system, infrastructure & the technology abroad. Life was rosy indeed on the streets but the thorny bit at home balanced it out.
It was a hard yet a very humbling realization that I was to be my own housekeeper & cook. More so, during my days on the student campus where I had to juggle studies, assignments, lectures, cooking, cleaning, dishes & laundry and the 9 hour commute to and fro from London every weekend to be with my husband. That's when the Mumbaikar in me kicked in, thanks to the daily struggle to keep up with the rat-race.
It also dawned on me that as compared to living abroad, I led a similar middle-class routine yet a lot more luxurious life at home in India. Just like me, the British students held their own rosy image of the homelife in India. Househelp is a very foreign & fascinating concept to them and we Indians were often called "lucky buggers" for having been brought up so comfortably, for not being "kicked out" at 18 and asked to earn our own tuition & upkeep. That's when I realized how truly blessed I've been to have such dynamic roots of a secured, comfortable homelife, my ever-loving folks and a fighting spirit honed by the twists thrown my way by the ever-bustling streets of Mumbai, day in, day out.
Then I came across this amusing Desi lot, and I'm exclusively referring to the ones who have been brought up & educated throughout in India. They'd start speaking Hindi & Marathi in British/American accent; some of them would stop speaking their mothertongue altogether within an year of staying abroad. It goes without saying that views change with age & experience but what I mostly see in case of NRIs is a biased take on this matter. They'd criticize everything about the life or system back home but none of them would speak of the countless job rejections they faced abroad, about how they had to jump through the hoops of the system and pay through their noses to hold onto their American or British visas by the skin of their teeth. It's really quite sad to see them criticize their own roots all the time with no room for any praise. Because hey, when the London underground or the Manhattan subway collapses, it's my Bambaiyya instincts that click in place to find the fastest alternative routes. The life back home is so deeply ingrained that I still anticipate, rush and beat people to a queue at any kiosk or a ticket counter. When a crisis strikes, I have my instincts and my folks back home to count on.
Think before you present a half-painted, glamorous picture to your friends back home, just for the sake of showing how your life abroad has an edge over theirs. They deserve to know that their life back home offers much better things than yours does as well- the luxuries at home, the cheap laundry service, a lively society, food/grocery options around every corner, the closely knit family who has their backs and what not. Besides, you never know when a natural or political crisis might strike. Think before you feel embarrassed of your own roots, because mind you, when a disaster uproots your world, it's your roots that count.
As a kid, I'd be fascinated by the pictures of the spick-&-span streets and everything to do with the "foreign lands" as I called them. Upon landing on that foreign soil as an adult, the glossy picture I painted as a kid held true when it came to the transport system, infrastructure & the technology abroad. Life was rosy indeed on the streets but the thorny bit at home balanced it out.
It was a hard yet a very humbling realization that I was to be my own housekeeper & cook. More so, during my days on the student campus where I had to juggle studies, assignments, lectures, cooking, cleaning, dishes & laundry and the 9 hour commute to and fro from London every weekend to be with my husband. That's when the Mumbaikar in me kicked in, thanks to the daily struggle to keep up with the rat-race.
It also dawned on me that as compared to living abroad, I led a similar middle-class routine yet a lot more luxurious life at home in India. Just like me, the British students held their own rosy image of the homelife in India. Househelp is a very foreign & fascinating concept to them and we Indians were often called "lucky buggers" for having been brought up so comfortably, for not being "kicked out" at 18 and asked to earn our own tuition & upkeep. That's when I realized how truly blessed I've been to have such dynamic roots of a secured, comfortable homelife, my ever-loving folks and a fighting spirit honed by the twists thrown my way by the ever-bustling streets of Mumbai, day in, day out.
Then I came across this amusing Desi lot, and I'm exclusively referring to the ones who have been brought up & educated throughout in India. They'd start speaking Hindi & Marathi in British/American accent; some of them would stop speaking their mothertongue altogether within an year of staying abroad. It goes without saying that views change with age & experience but what I mostly see in case of NRIs is a biased take on this matter. They'd criticize everything about the life or system back home but none of them would speak of the countless job rejections they faced abroad, about how they had to jump through the hoops of the system and pay through their noses to hold onto their American or British visas by the skin of their teeth. It's really quite sad to see them criticize their own roots all the time with no room for any praise. Because hey, when the London underground or the Manhattan subway collapses, it's my Bambaiyya instincts that click in place to find the fastest alternative routes. The life back home is so deeply ingrained that I still anticipate, rush and beat people to a queue at any kiosk or a ticket counter. When a crisis strikes, I have my instincts and my folks back home to count on.
Think before you present a half-painted, glamorous picture to your friends back home, just for the sake of showing how your life abroad has an edge over theirs. They deserve to know that their life back home offers much better things than yours does as well- the luxuries at home, the cheap laundry service, a lively society, food/grocery options around every corner, the closely knit family who has their backs and what not. Besides, you never know when a natural or political crisis might strike. Think before you feel embarrassed of your own roots, because mind you, when a disaster uproots your world, it's your roots that count.
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