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As I attempt to begin this book of my adventures, I only see it fit to start from the beginning: the background before the trip, the days leading up, moving in, and all my stray thoughts.
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So as Indian Americans, it's quite common to find ourselves romanticizing the notion of India, even after scarring visits like watching several motorcyclists fall on the highway, and have the police shrug and walk away after seeing the bloody remains. Or perhaps sitting at the breakfast table in Bhivani before your cousin's wedding and transvestites, more commonly referred to as "it's" quite literally invade the home and dance for money in flowered saris, all while a stray cow lounges inside, observing the scene.
Still, there's a part of us that wants to believe that our rich culture [of spirituality, music, movies, dance, hard work, argumentation, aggression, accomplishment, passion, dedication, laziness, honesty, lies, and everything else] is alive, somewhere. Everytime I listen to a Bollywood song or converse with my parents in Hinglish, I get taken to those 8 lane streets with auto-rickshaws coated in cow dung. Ambivalence defines my relationship with India.
I had been trying to find a way to go back to India after 10 years. Back then, I was too young and stubborn to fully enjoy myself, and instead whined about how dirty it was. It was my cousin's wedding and all I could focus on were the negative differences. My relatives probably just remember me as the pudgy, cute Meethu with a bit of an attitude problem.
Around January 2013, I started thinking about my summer plans. I wanted both an incredible professional and personal experience, since I did not have the time to take part in study abroad, and there was only one option that occupied my thoughts: Interning in India. Why not? I found out from an incredible classmate, Geetika, about an internship with Kraft in Mumbai and immediately told my parents. Geetika slowly became less of a classmate and more of a close friend as I began to discover how down to earth, chill, intelligent, and fun-loving she is.
As always, my parents were open to discussion but stayed practical with warnings of what life would be like for those few months.
You know it'll be crowded, loud, hot, dirty and all, right?
Yes, mom, yes! It'll be fine, I promise. Pleaaaase can I go please please I will buy you lots of retirement vacations once I am rich.
She smiled. I was ecstatic that they even considered the proposal, and assured them that I knew what I was getting myself into. Thank God for my incredible, open-minded, and encouraging parents. I'm beyond blessed with have a family that is supportive of every action I take. I genuinely cannot think of a way in words to convey my true gratitude towards these amazing human beings. Thank you for everything Mama, Papa, Sidd.
The following months consisted of daydreams of rediscovering my identity and absurd interactions. The adrenaline junky in me was glowing.
Geetika sat me down and try to give me the lay-down of everything to expect, from work, to travel, to people, to food, and everything else.
When I came home from college in early May, my mom informed me that she was going to come along with me to India.
No way I'm letting you go alone. Meethu and Mama are going to India.
And so Big D had made her mind. She was leaving work for 2 months only for me. People can only imagine of a mother so dedicated and nurturing as an Indian mother. I am so blessed, [sorry for being so emotional, I just really like my family].
Meethu and Mama were on their way to Hindustan.
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