Aaahhhh, the annual trip to India.
Prior to the trip, there is a tinge of anxiety mingled with layers of excitement. Excitement—because one is going home, after all; anxiety—because there are layers of pressure while connecting with one’s folks out there.
The shopping that takes place for days before departure from Kuwait is as exhausting as the shopping that takes place in India, before departure from there. Both ways, the bags do not get any respite or breathing space.
After reaching home, the bags are emptied and gifts and goodies distributed. All seem happy and chirpy. The usual questions are spurted out, from both sides. “How is life? How is work? How are the conditions there now? What do you all do during week-ends? How is the level of education in the schools?” The answers, too, usually are those that are repeated each year.
The folks at home then get busy in their respective schedules. Within the first week, sad little questions start lurking in the mind—whether our coming did after all matter to them or not? After all, everyone seems to be pre-occupied. Are we coming in their way?
The days are few. Brushing the questions aside, the itinerary is prepared. The visits are lined up—Uncles and Aunts on both sides; our common and distinct friends; former and existing neighbours; and former colleagues or other loved ones. And deftly squeezed in, have to be the few visits to the places of worship; the banks and at least one or two visits to the doctors or at least, the pathology labs. Then, there are those planned and unplanned junk food binging sprees. If one is an astute planner, there can still be a few hours one can steal for a play in a theatre or a music concert or a movie or two.
The dripping-in-love insistences in every house that is paid a visit to, to savour the paranthas, dosas, kheers, laddoos, dhoklas, bhajiyas and the like commence from day 1 and go on till the last day. One keeps happily munching and gulping the culinary delights in every home and market that one visits… The weight of horrible thoughts related to dieting and exercising is miraculously lifted off our shoulders, during our trip home. Alas! The weight springs back on our heavier shoulders and tummies as soon as we clear immigration, pick up baggage and step out of the arrival gates in Kuwait.
No trip home is possible without a comparative analysis that takes place in conversations with friends, neighbours and relatives. The comparison is between life in India and life in Kuwait. Every bit of reality is dissected and commented upon with amazing levels of confidence on both the sides. Those staying there speak with superb levels of conviction and assert what is right and what is wrong in India; they declare emphatically the flaws in the system and whether we will or will not improve at all… And then, it is our turn!!! We speak with equal conviction and confidence about the socio-economic scenario in entire Gulf. We may have never stepped in Bahrain or Qatar but we feel duty-bound to enlighten the ignorant souls in India regarding the cultures, economies, societies etc in the entire region. Our masterful strokes paint pictures of the entire scene in this part of the world—in colours we choose to.
There is ample cribbing and complaining on both sides, usually followed by a point-blank statement, while shrugging the shoulders helplessly, about the futility of our discussions, since nothing is in our hands!!!
A silent comparison goes on in our hearts too. ‘When we shall return for good, will we be able to adapt with this rapidly-changing India?’ we wonder silently. Of course, some facts have withstood the test of time. The heaps of garbage are a familiar sight; the odour and the honking on the roads remains the same; the plight of the pedestrians remains unchanged. The crowd in the shopping malls consistently multiplies though; people spend and splurge more, as we stupidly stare in dismay.
Thousands of rupees are blown, without a blink, on a tasteless dinner in a swanky restaurant; the expectations of everyone from everyone keep breaking the glass-ceilings further...
At the same time, there is always that community which keeps working undeterred by the deterioration at large. The milk-men who keep delivering on time; the teachers who continue to take up one novel project after the other; the auto drivers who still return belongings and even mobile phones; the trains that run on time; the vegetable and fruit vendors who still do not over-charge… There are those folks too, who despite an increase in their struggles—excel in hospitality. The friends who hug tight; and their mothers who forget the inflationary trends, while laying down a large spread when we--their children’s friends come over for lunch…
Days pass swiftly, and we are soon checking and ticking the items listed in our “To Buy” list on the mobile. There are masalas, medicines, even utensils, clothes, yummy sweets, etc to be bought.
There are a few sour discussions at times, or heart-burns because someone didn’t even call or didn’t bother to visit, and one often wonders that since everyone is so busy and probably indifferent too, whether we should be spending a lakh or two and come here annually at all?
And then, the day of departure dawns. The folks at home excitedly come up with last-minute packets of eatables or small items and thrust them in our hands, coaxing us to somehow make space for it all… The eyes are moist since morning and the heart is heavy… We lift the bags, ready—for the transition from one’s Janambhoomi to one’s Karmabhoomi. And then, the tears start flowing as the final good-byes are waved… All doubts about whether our families love or not; care or not; whether the country has a future or not—all doubts, dissipate.
On reaching Kuwait, calls are made that we arrived safely and the question that inevitably crackles through the long-distance line is: “So, when will be your next trip home?”