Homesickness is worse than viral infection…cos it doesn’t go away

Two years ago, just as I was leaving for Los Angeles, I saw Swades. I made a mental note to myself: If I ever found it difficult to leave LA and come back, I’ll just watch Swades and I’d feel so horribly guilty, I’d come back. So first order of business when I landed here and took a Netflix movie rental connection: List Swades as the last movie in my queue.

Today I was listening to some old Hindi songs on Youtube while updating my website and A R Rahman’s ‘Yeh Jo Des Hai tera’ (http://ping.fm/1ivhu) started playing. It does not help that I am altready swimming in nostalgia and self pity for being in the US and then this song…the one thing I had protected myself from for 730 days…pops up in a queue of songs by Rahman.

To add to the misery, I just finished chatting with a friend who was belting out the list of places in Bangalore to eat new varieties of Dosas.

Now I know myself pretty well by now…I won’t be crying, but once I leave LA, I’ll bet nostalgic about it too. I’ll think about the weekend rituals, the getaways, the memories we created in the multiple apartments we stayed in and it will create a small space for itself in my heart.

Why am I not able to just stick to that image? Why does everything have to be at least a year and an ocean away from me before I become fond of it?

I started following Barkha Dutt on Twitter to cure my homesickness. Once you get reminded of the crime and politicians, you will reconsider moving back. But that ain’t helping. Because for every tweet from her, there is a CNN tweet of how someone got shot 10 miles from my house in broad daylight while waiting in a parked car outside a Walmart.

Suffocation is my only panacea. This void has to be filled, stuffed, burst at its seams and snuffed out of me. I am going to get some of my relatives, servants, the chaprasis at the sales tax office, the college peons, clients, reliance and vodafone call center people, dhobis, shopkeepers, beggars at the railway station and the mad guy at the temple to come on Skype with me and interact with me over the period of a day. And that’ll be the last of these nostalgic blog posts.

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