I moved to New Delhi, India temporarily almost 4 years ago. With a bright yellow rucksack and a red suitcase following my steps, I came to India full of dreams, fear and anxiety. All of the stories about India, the people, food, well- just everything about India made my heart quiver.
Back home in Nepal, we are used to making fun of India- well Indians to be precise. We would laugh at their accent, their head shakes, their food, etc. Of course nothing could beat how cool we Nepalese are- I will get back to this later.
India, Bharat, Hindustaan.
At first, I used to grumble about everything that came by my way. Food, people, transport, telecom, clothes- I was not happy at all. zero satisfaction- ZERO. I used to Skype with friends back home and cry. Cry until my eyes were bloodshot red. I had a hard time getting used to everything there- the internet was not as fast, the burgers weren't as cheesy as the TV commercials portrayed.
However, with time I figured out that Chole Bhature was my soul food. Gurudwara BanglaSahib was my favorite hangout place, swearing in Hindi was the one thing I was extremely good at, my best friend loved me more than her Indian friend (Of course she has to, I am a cool Nepali! This information wasn't necessary. But just saying!). At one point of time, I managed to fool at least 5 people by telling them that I am the princess of Nepal. Haha. It seems strange how three years went by in an blink of an eye.
After spending so much time in India, speaking in Hindi, commuting for hours and hours just to get to work and eating all sorts of masalas and doing everything that an Indian would do, I came back to Nepal. And right now as I am typing this down- I am sad. I am very very sad. I miss India terribly. I miss speaking in Hindi. I miss rikshaws. I miss deliciously cheap food in each and every nook ad corner of the streets. I miss local lemon soda. I miss my roommate. She was the best thing that happened to me. Sneha, if you are reading this- always remember that you are the best. I miss the lazy Sunday mornings with you. My mother would kill me but nothing can beat you in the kitchen. I love you. So much. You are more like a sister from another mother belonging to another nationality- always there for me. I wish I was there with you commuting back home from work- eyeing every seat in the metro hoping someone would get up.
My eyes are all teary now. Bye.
P.S. I read somewhere about India's full form being I'll Never Do it Again.
Well, I would say- I will do India over and over and over again.
Back home in Nepal, we are used to making fun of India- well Indians to be precise. We would laugh at their accent, their head shakes, their food, etc. Of course nothing could beat how cool we Nepalese are- I will get back to this later.
India, Bharat, Hindustaan.
At first, I used to grumble about everything that came by my way. Food, people, transport, telecom, clothes- I was not happy at all. zero satisfaction- ZERO. I used to Skype with friends back home and cry. Cry until my eyes were bloodshot red. I had a hard time getting used to everything there- the internet was not as fast, the burgers weren't as cheesy as the TV commercials portrayed.
However, with time I figured out that Chole Bhature was my soul food. Gurudwara BanglaSahib was my favorite hangout place, swearing in Hindi was the one thing I was extremely good at, my best friend loved me more than her Indian friend (Of course she has to, I am a cool Nepali! This information wasn't necessary. But just saying!). At one point of time, I managed to fool at least 5 people by telling them that I am the princess of Nepal. Haha. It seems strange how three years went by in an blink of an eye.
After spending so much time in India, speaking in Hindi, commuting for hours and hours just to get to work and eating all sorts of masalas and doing everything that an Indian would do, I came back to Nepal. And right now as I am typing this down- I am sad. I am very very sad. I miss India terribly. I miss speaking in Hindi. I miss rikshaws. I miss deliciously cheap food in each and every nook ad corner of the streets. I miss local lemon soda. I miss my roommate. She was the best thing that happened to me. Sneha, if you are reading this- always remember that you are the best. I miss the lazy Sunday mornings with you. My mother would kill me but nothing can beat you in the kitchen. I love you. So much. You are more like a sister from another mother belonging to another nationality- always there for me. I wish I was there with you commuting back home from work- eyeing every seat in the metro hoping someone would get up.
My eyes are all teary now. Bye.
P.S. I read somewhere about India's full form being I'll Never Do it Again.
Well, I would say- I will do India over and over and over again.
