The first few days in the America were tough. Having lived with my parents all my life and now being suddenly uprooted from the comforts of my family home and my mom’s wonderful home-cooked meals was an irredeemable emotional desolation. Being independent was fun but with it came baggage of keeping the house clean, paying the bills and maintaining finances. Living with parents, my dad was the central bank and mom the ATM. Now, I had to think twice before making (any) purchase. At first, I had the habit of converting most of my purchases to Indian currency and curse profusely. $4 worth of curry leaves?! In India we get it for free! I had to resort to the “Do I want or do I need it” argument to coax my inner shoppoholic.

The most under-appreciated pain of living alone was doing laundry and the dishes. It was during this time I missed my mother the most. I know how selfish of me. While I was tackling the problems of being alone and independent I also had to deal with the demanding coursework of the graduate schoool. It surely threw me off balance in the start. I had to reevaulate my methods. Being an academically oriented student since my school days the Indian education system had moulded me into an grade hungry learner whose prime motivation was to ace the test rather than to learn about the subject. Here it was different. Everyone in my batch was an above average, hard working, professional which made the experience a bit more daunting. We were tested on how my we understood the subject rather than how much we can regurgitate can a trained ape. I loved it. Though the learning curve was steep the experience was worthwhile. I had few episodes of feeling like an imposter but with time those healed.

Coming to America as a country, on the outside America is fantastic! From an Indian tourist perspective it’s a dream land but on a closer look I have realized America is super weird. For one, it lacks the vibrance and color India has, I tend to agree it is not as rustic or dusty as India. I never would have thought I would say this, but I miss India. In all it’s dirty, ruggedness and chaos. There’s some order in the randomness there. While Americans are disciplined, clean and punctual; frankly, I miss the emotional connect which the Indians emanated profoundly. It might be the language or the culture or the climate – geographical social or political – but in India I felt I was a part of huge family. Something which is lacking here. Next, America has TOO MANY rules. Driving here is boring. While it’s true that there are wide clean roads, lush greenery, open country fields and impeccably planned intertwined highway network that make your jaws drop. For me that awe was ephemeral. Soon they monotonous highways where insanely oversized vehicles go at insanely high speeds. I dearly miss the colorful trucks, those dangerously packed busses, or motorcycles with 5 people on them; those rustic outposts that serve fresh sugarcane juice and doubled as trusty navigators. Every road trip whether rural or urban in India was an adventure.