Ghee Shakkar

I speak to the attendant at the counter. It's not the first time I'm there. I recognize her, in her spectacles, and despite the face-covering she wears. Covid was over long ago, so I'm not sure what she's worried about. I don't bother to ask, our interaction transcends into something more pivotal. I glance through the piece of paper in front of me. I know what it says, but I'm not sure what the mood is like today. I finally decide to go for the Ghee Masala Dosa, as I've done on so many occasions before this. I ask for a Filter Coffee as well. She repeats my order, asks my name, and then, I wait. 

There is a constant chatter in the place, of the people sitting, and of those waiting. The walls are just about in place, the white paint tearing down in a few spots. The tables are not spread too far apart, and the chairs even closer. I recognize a few more faces, the ones who are transporting a stack of plates from the kitchen to the promised customers. These faces look back at me, our eyes locking for that split second. I hope they recognize me as well, as one of their own, simply, for no reason.

inside Madras Cafe

I hear my name. A call to occupy an unoccupied table. I seat myself, and patiently wait for the Ghee Masala Dosa. The Filter Coffee as well. I'm accompanied by a friend; on some occasions before, it was family. I no longer know the difference anyway. We talk about the mundane, everyday things, and the struggles that shadow over the seemingly perfect life people in America live, in the eyes of people who don't live here. 

The food arrives, and our conversation digresses as it becomes one with the chatter in the place. I take a bite, and another. The coffee finds it's way to my heart as well. It took me some time to realize why I keep coming back to this place. To the attendant, in her spectacles, and face-mask. To the small enclosure contained within those four walls with their white paint tearing up in some places. To the servers, with their plates, and to the food topped with Ghee. I was looking for a word, a feeling to explain this behavior. I know what it is now. Familiarity. 

I step out of Madras Cafe, out of that abode, onto the main road, here in the Bay Area, in California. There is a constant chatter, but it's the cars that are making it, not people. I see walls, but they're spread out, with a paint and finish that shouts artificial. The human touch seems to be missing. It’s no longer familiar. 

I’ve decided to move back to India, for good. When you’re reading this, I would quite likely have already landed in India. I’m in the flight as I write this. I’ve been wanting to write this for a while now, but somehow time and the right mindset eluded me. Right now, in the flight, I have time. Not sure what's the right frame of mind I need to be in to write this, but I knew I needed to pen this down before I landed back home, with my life uprooted completely. 

“Do you know what you’re going to lose?”
Mohan Bhargav/Me : “I know what I’m going to gain”

I don’t feel any particularly strong emotion right now. I’m doing okay, I’ve been okay for a while about this. I knew in the July of 2022, more than sixteen months ago that I want to move back permanently. Since then, I’ve had conversations with acquaintances, and friends & family. (Almost) Everyone went through an initial phase of surprise, and disbelief almost, as to why and how I came to this conclusion. There were even pangs of demotivation that were thrown at me. Demotivation that didn’t come from any negative intention, but out of concern for me. They were worried for me, whether I had thought this through. I’ve tried to explain, the rationale to everyone who asked, and mind you, everyone asked. I’ve had to answer questions to people about how far along the move I was. It got annoying at times. Talking about the same thing with everyone, all the time. I was going to move, but even while I was still here, discussing the move, and the reasons behind it, almost made me feel I had left this place already. But perhaps, it’s not anyone’s fault. 

I’m going to try to explain the reasons for my move. As much for you, the reader, as much for me, So that if, and when, you or I question how we feel about it with the passage of time, we’ll have this white paper to go back to.

The rationale for the move, you asked? The first thing to understand about me, and this decision, is that me, and the decision, are strongly emotional. Once you have your emotional lens on, the rest of what I’m going to say will sound rational. 

I moved to the States in September 2019. That’s six months before Covid hit all of us. Given the person I am, or was back then, it took me time to develop and nurture connections. I met and bonded with a few people during those first six months, but beyond that I found it hard to foster meaningful relationships. I was in a new place, with no one around to lean back on. It was hard. Fortunately though, I was receiving a lot of intellectual stimulation through academics, something that kept me sane through everything. I found my way through those eighteen months in San Diego, with a couple of people I would hang out with weekly, and a group that played (not American) football every other day. These interactions were very important, but yet far from enough. I didn’t necessarily feel I was happy. In all likelyhood, I was not. 

I then moved to the Bay Area, a few hours north from San Diego. I knew I had to change my predicament and meet more people. There were some acquiantances who had moved from San Diego, to the Silicon Valley, and I reached out to each of them. There was an influx of social encounters, for a short while at least. I was employed now, and I was receiving more money than I had ever imagined. Covid was slowly receding into the background, and with the quick fixes money could buy, I felt life was good. Perhaps it was. But it passed. There were times when I no longer felt like driving to the beach, or doing a hike, that everyone here prides themselves on. It felt monotonous, and useless at times. There was no purpose associated with it. Perhaps it was because I didn’t have a wide social circle, and repeating similar things with the same people felt like a stretch for everyone. It’s important to realize that I was, and perhaps still am in a phase, where I compared, and compare, every new connection and relation I form, with the ones I have had in the past. The bonds that have stood the test of time. This is fundamentally wrong, and I’ve been trying to break the shackles slowly. The result of this? I inadvertently was dissatisfied at times, a lot of times.

The arrivals of the weekends brought more stress than relief. Stress that I might not have a plan to meet anyone or do something. But at the same time, I didn’t necessarily want to do anything. Nothing in the city I stayed in, at the least. I then took it upon me to explore the rest of the States, and planned week long workations across the continent. It brought with it excitement, and almost always left me in awe of the experiences I was locking eyes with. I would then come back to the Bay, and again be filled with a huge sense of dissatisfaction. These week long escapes were not a long term solution. 

Social interactions here in the States, somehow never seemed entirely organic. It felt like we met to occupy that time, and not necessarily to live that time. I’m cognizant of the fact that meeting like-minded people, and people you can gel with, may not necessarily be an American problem, but rather something that comes with being an adult. Where everyone has less time, and even lesser energy. But I knew that I had to solve for social experiences. Moving bases to a more familiar land, where friends and family recide, was the option I chose. Sure, no one’s location is permanent, and the friends I call family back in India, might potentially move out at some point, but well, like I said this is an emotional decision. Rationality hopefully follows along.

Let’s now go back to that road outside Madras Cafe. A wide road, with cars buzzing by, stopping only at the signal, as one must. Barely a person outside the car, walking. There's no vegetable vendor I see round the corner, and my ears almost eagerly yearn for the sound of a hawker. Not to say that the peace and quiet and organization of what American roads and lifestyle offers is bad in anyway, but to each his own. The absence of these things here, the voice and commotion and people that make India, India, is visibly felt, by me at the very least. It doesn’t feel like home. And I don’t expect it to. The States are a country and culture of their own, so to expect otherwise would be foolish on my end. But to continue to stay hoping for that familiarity would not be sensible either. 

family, and familiarity

I also realize that the grass perhaps always appears greener on the other side. I might be taking the peace and quiet of the States for granted, while parrallely imagining an India from four years ago when I was at the peak (so far) of a social and cultural bubble during the heyday of my undergraduate life. I do realize it, and I do acknowledge it, as much as I possibly can. With this awareness, and all the biases, I still decide to move back. After all, I’m coming home, and is that not allowed, without having to deliberate and worry and explain so much?

I was in a shopping mall in Delhi with a friend, in 2019, a few days after I had received acceptance into university here in the States. I distinctly remember the conversation we had. I planned to complete my master’s, work for a couple of years, and find a suitable job in India thereafter. There were no frills about this, it was a normal conversation, none of us were surprised with what I said. I don’t remember why I said this back then, but perhaps it was a given, that well, I’ll naturally come back home, to India. 

Given that I had this in my mind that I wanted to be in India in the long-term (for no real reason), the timing felt just about right, right now. On a personal, and professional front. The Indian economy is booming, and if half of what they say is true, this is a very exciting time to be, and build in India. On the personal end, I see myself getting married in the next couple of years, so it was important for me to move back before these things came to fruition. Meeting a partner in the States, who may potentially not see her future in India, was not something I wanted to get entangled in.

But well, all this said and done, making the conclusive call of whether I want to move back was not at all easy. Life here was like a Sine Curve — there were days I was sure, and there were days I was on the diametrically opposite end of the spectrum. How does one leave behind money, comfort, development, career-opportunities, nature a stone’s throw away? As for money, it acted as an enabler and bought things that I could not have imagined experiencing this early on in my life. But, at what cost? Comfort is subjective, and in a lot of ways life in India is more comfortable — take house-help for an example. Development? Well, it never brought the familiarity, that I crave for, with it. I perhaps didn’t optimize for career opportunities in a holistic way, but I do have a fair idea of how dynamic and buzzing the job and startup market in India is at the moment. And finally, natural beauty. One argument that was thrown at me by others, and me, myself, was the fact that there’s so much natural beauty that’s accessible all the time. I agree, and don’t really have a valid argument against it. But I know how often I’ve been to a hike, or a beach near me — not a lot. It’s a good-to-have, not a must-have feature in the lifestyle I aspire for, for the time-being at least.

nature, a stone's throw away

It’s very important that you realize that I’m not trying to prove you wrong, or debate you on whether India is better or worse than the foreign land you’re in. It’s about what feels right and works for each of us, independently. I know it’s a big move, but it no longer feels one. It has not necessarly sunk-in, and I don’t know if it will. It’s a transition, a natural one, the way I see it. 

I’ll arrive in Pune soon. I imagine walking to the person at the counter, and requesting for a table for a few. While I wait, I hope to hear the constant chatter in there, of people waiting, and of those eating. He’ll then look at me and direct me to the table that just got free. I’ll have my Ghee Masala Dosa, and Filter Coffee. It’ll be familiar. I’ll step out of Vaishali, onto FC Road, and it will still be familiar, and I’ll know I’m home, for good.