– Shops don’t close at 4. What joy that is! Not having to rush out at 3:30, hoping against hope that you might just slink past the security guard, one minute before the store closes. Once we’re in, we’re safe, as husband says. Not quite, because we have that voice telling you that you need to get your stuff to be billed in 5 minutes time. What pleasure it is, to be able to stroll out and shop when it pleases you on a Sunday evening.
– I yearn for the rains. I never thought that would happen to me. Not after living in a place where it rains all the time. I guess there is truth in the saying,’Never say never’, after all.
– Not having to carry a jacket – just in case it rains or it gets too cold. It’s true freedom, I tell you.
– Getting someone else to do all the housework – what joy! Although I can see it adding to the inches on my waist.
– Being able to call a store and ask for provisions to be delivered home. There’s nothing like it when you are home alone with a sleeping child and urgently need something before the shops close for the day.
Despite all that, I can’t help feel a tiny bit homesick when I read Bill Bryson’s Notes from a Small Island. Especially when he mentions the familiar places like the Yorkshire Dales or Harrogate. It makes me sad to think that I will probably never go on a drive there, on a Sunday evening, just because there is nothing else that we can do.
Or plan for that holiday in Lake District where all we plan to do is relax, and walk around – which never happens, by the way. Both of us can’t just do nothing on a holiday. Or go back to North Wales and hike up to Snowdonia. Or complain about the rains, the never ending rains – that is fun too, you know. But what I miss most is to be able to walk into a store and get a packet yeast, just because I fancy baking some bread.
See, I told ya. The grass is always greener on the other side.
.. seems to make me to do what nothing else seems to have worked… drive me to write a post..
Jetlag and homesickness, to be honest.. The worst part of going home for holidays. It is funny how home is still with Amma and Achan. That whole feeling of being a daughter, I guess not being the primary care taker, knowing that someone else is there to ‘look after’ me even if I am well past that age of being ‘looked-after’.
This, even after years of living away from them.. Despite never having lived with my parents since the time I was eighteen.. I guess time or age does not really matter when it comes to the matters of the heart. And being wide awake at 4:00 in the morning doesn’t do much to help.
The only thing I can think that can make me feel better now is to unpack and eat some of yummy goodies that Amma packed for her grand-daughter. Surely a homesick daughter can have some of them too?
.. because that is about all that I did not manage to get hold of, in our holiday to India.
When daughter was little, husband used to inhale her baby fragrance and wish that we could capture it for eternity. That is the one thing I wish too, now, back after my 8 week-long holiday.
The aroma of mom’s cooking,
the fragrance of flowers lingering on after collecting flowers for the pookalam,
the fragrance of properly fermented dosas,
of ripe, juicy jackfruits,
the smell of wood fired ovens – I can’t get enough of it..
I guess, I don’t need to say that I am terribly, terribly homesick. If there is anything bad about a holiday at home, it is the returning. How I wish I could just bypass it entirely. This holiday was a mixture of everything, a roller coaster of emotions, combined with the excitement of my and Poohi’s very first Onam in Kerala, being around to celebrate my great-aunt’s 90th birthday, meeting relatives, rejoicing in the way Poohi enjoyed with all her cousins and basking in the love one receives from everyone… Even if I did not manage to capture smells, I did manage to capture the sights, and we were so very lucky to get to meet Deeps and Namnam 🙂
I do owe apologies to everyone who I did not manage to call while in India. I will call you all over the next few days.