Note- So i've been gone for a long time. Th summer was exciting and a lot changed. But, we'll come to that later. Right now i'm posting an unfinished diary of my travels to India. Sorry, but lack of internet stopped me from writing a word the whole month i was in Doon so my diary stops when i left Kolkata. Well HAVE FUN!!

THOUGHT 1
It’s weird- I feel like I’m going home, even though India hasn’t been one for almost five years. What defines home I wonder- Family, comfort or habit?. Some connect home to the four walls that are brought down to the denominator of measurements, number of rooms, or even the color of the walls or the designs of the windowpanes. Therefore, home is equated to a ‘makaan’. Therein lies a certain problem, especially with the dawning era of globalization.

Globalization has started to reduce the world to one large nation. We are coming full circle- the world began as a whole and in every sense of the word is returning home! People are buying land and building houses in all continents in the name of real estate demoting the emotional value to monetary terms. Where is home in all of this, especially when the family is distributed among all these houses.

Somehow it seems that I have returned to my earlier explanation of home. That is being a synonym for comfort and safety. Though it is sad that today people find those in bars, single room motels or even their offices. This fast pace world dissuades people from finding support, as it then seen as sign of weakness. Feminism, liberalism and the many other schools of intellectual thought, that have become ideals that define society, encourage individualism. Home has no place in it. Houses are just which can be sold to the highest bidder.

Nationality, too, has been transformed from feelings of patriotism and a sense of belonging even amidst conflict into a collection of government failures and fiscal and monetary policies. Government and international institutions encompass the idea of nationality to such a degree that instead of becoming a component it has taken over the idea itself. People have lost their identity in these chaotic negotiations of peace and war. NRIs belong more to the country that live in than the one they left behind. India is just a hazy memory; at least it has become so for me. This world has started to churn out youngsters who have no idea about traditions or their own history. Because if they did, they would be stuck between two opposing belief systems and never belong to either. The choices are slim- stay behind by clinging to ideas that are incompatible to the place they live in or move forward by becoming one with the residents. I have an Indian passport, an American Visa, a Singapore Permanent Card and a Student Visa for Canada. Which is my home- India, Singapore or Canada?

Let me tell you a story. I was returning to Singapore from Vancouver and at security check, the officer, making conversation, asked whether I was going home. I automatically answered yes and he thought that I had come to Vancouver for a holiday. I had to explain that I was studying in Vancouver and would be living in a rented house next year. The man laughed looking at me as if I were crazy and quite scornfully told me that, then Vancouver was my home and I was going to Singapore for holiday. It did not matter to him that for me, Singapore is my home and my time in Vancouver is the four months of college term. The officer saw just the house that I had rented out In Vancouver and the number of months that I stayed there. Thus, he conveniently, without my permission, reversed my identity for me.

I cannot wait to go to India to reconnect with my past and the world I left behind. I want to seek out my identity and find out for myself where my comfort and security lies. I wish to decide for myself where I want to stay and find home, my version of home. Join me as I muddle through my chaotic array of emotions and paint/organise my portrait/palette of emotions. Stick with me as I dive headfirst into this long, winding journey……

FIRST ACCIDENT
I am a confirmed klutz …. seriously, accidents and I are linked like an old married couple. This unspeakable relationship reared its ugly head as I attempted, with a fatal consequence, to jump off a rikshaw, wearing heels and a skirt. Obviously, I, well being me, fell and had to be carried by my aunt and her old mother up the stairs to her house. Then, amidst the chaos that erupted, I decided to not act my age and broke into bouts of tears, asking for my mommy. My feet, which by this time had swollen to the size of a small lemon did nothing to alleviate my fears of a broken toe. I was rushed to the emergency room where I refused to sit in a wheelchair. Though everyone thought that It was extremely brave of me, that action was a result more out of embarrassment than courage. In comparison to all those in the intensive unit my pain seemed inconsequential and I felt bad about the preferential treatment I was receiving merely because my family was friends with the doctor. Anyway, eventually me fear were proved wrong when the x-rays showed no sign of a fracture or a sprain. All that chaos for a mere wound! I limped my way from Kolkata to Delhi and then to Dehradoon with a lot of help from attendants at the airport as well as the station. Thank God… I am finally in my hometown mostly safe and sound. Gauri, my closest friend came to pick me up and we have a lot of plans for the coming weeks… lets hope they all plan out just the way we have imagined it. Signing off now... see you in a week.