I have been wrestling with myself ever since I stepped foot in America, on the subtle concrete soil of the John F. Kennedy Airport. I keep laughing and crying at the same time, happiest when I look through pictures of stray cows and sweaty, tan friends, and saddest when I look through pictures of stray cows and sweaty, tan friends. I have been so incredibly blown away by the Yatra that I don't know how to express my emotions. I meant to keep a blog, but instead kept new friends, new experiences, and found a new me. For fear of sounding too Chicken-Soup-for-the-Soul-meets-Oprah-Winfrey, I find myself completely lost, undiscovered. As much as I can honestly say that the trip helped me find myself, I can just as easily say this trip confused me all the more. In two weeks, I have felt at such ease with a dysfunctional busload of students, cameramen, chaperones, and other randos inevitably on our tour bus. I found solace in strangers, order in chaos, and peace in blaring car horns.
And now that I have returned to an orderly cleanliness, to systematic procedures, and to a house that does not wheel me around a desert state, I don't know what I am supposed to do. Apparently I have to wait on lines now? And I can't just break out in Guju accents to my friends?
I don't know where I am supposed to be. I could be in India, I could be in New York, I could be in a perpetual suspension over the Atlantic. Yatris, please help me find my way home.
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Glad you had such a good time.. my sister did too! Def. making friends for a lifetime!
ReplyDeleteoh gawd bless.
ReplyDeleteRucha, take heart - your fellow Yatris are feeling just as lost as you are.
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