Trying to find the echoes of home in distant lands.
Written by Drishtee Johar
Photo by Karan Picture on Unsplash
I was born and raised in Dubai, but I never felt any less Indian than those who lived in the homeland. As the Indian diaspora in Dubai, we knew the best places for golgappa, knew how to haggle at the street markets, and oiled our hair the same way our mothers and our grandmothers did. We attended aartis and keerthans, we knew how to party. There was never a question of where home was – never a question of who I was. I was Indian. I carried the motherland in me, in everything I did; in my behaviour, in the way I ate and in the music I listened to.
I went to an Indian school. I spoke English with my teachers, and Hindi with my friends. I learnt slang from all the different states of my friends, and how to swear. I could speak a few Tamil words and phrases, and even though I knew that my pronunciation was terrible, I still used them in the light-hearted arguments we had. We danced exclusively to Bollywood music for school festivals. Our school celebrated Diwali with more frenzy than any other school in our city.
But then I moved to Cardiff. For my own survival, and to get along with others, I started listening to The Weeknd and Taylor Swift instead of Rahat Fateh Ali Khan and Shreya Ghoshal. I began making cold sandwiches and iced coffees instead of masala chai and sabzi. I replaced my jhumke for studs. When I went back home for the first time, the streets I knew like the back of my hand had changed. The food didn’t taste the same. My sister pointed out the very light accent my English had adopted, and Hindi felt ever so slightly heavy on my tongue. Somehow, home wasn’t … home anymore. Suddenly, I found myself being too brown for Wales but simultaneously too white for home.
Now, I’m between two worlds, trying to straddle the threshold of past and present. Hopelessly longing for the simplicity of yesteryears while grappling with the complexities of my newfound reality and looming future. It is, surprisingly, a delicate act - similar to balancing on a tightrope. Should I be finding comfort in lingering in the nostalgia of the past, or rather find a way to emotionally deal with the necessity of adaptation? How can I do both when they are such different, distinct worlds? No one else can help me to find an equilibrium between holding on tightly to cherished memories and embracing the inevitability of change, between the comfort of familiarity and the courage to venture into the unknown realms of possibility – it is something that must be done independently, which can be terrifying.
Now, home remains an elusive mirage, forever just out of reach; a distant beacon that guides my soul through uncertainty and doubt. It is always a case of ‘so close, and yet so far’. I listen for echoes of home in the laughter of strangers and the whispers of the wind, longing for a connection that transcends geographical boundaries. And yet, no matter how far I roam or how fervently I seek, home remains a fleeting shadow, forever teasing me with its intangible presence, leaving me yearning for a place to call my own.
I have come to realise, through my ups and downs, that home can never be something as tangible as a point on a map, or a certain food, or the familiar sound of the people around you. It is a fact of life that things and people change, so how can we expect home to stay stuck at a certain point in time? No, home, to me, is a state of mind: a feeling that transcends physical boundaries and worldly constraints. It is the sum of all the places I have loved and lost, the memories I have cherished, and the dreams I have dared to dream.
I have come to realise that home is an emotion. Perhaps, just perhaps, home is wherever my heart finds solace, wherever my soul finds peace, wherever my spirit finds belonging.
This is beautiful! The mixing of cultures as we travel and move around the world makes us feel like time flows differently in the different places we live, that home can and never will be the same home we remember, but at the end of the day home is wherever we feel the most comfort as we carry the memories and culture we've learned along with us, making us truly unique.