Ten Days Left
When I get back to the U.S., I’m going swing dancing.
I will go camping, and spend quality time with my geographically scattered family. We’ll go boating, play games and stay up late talking.
And I will eat spinach instead of banana leaves, which I will probably miss.
I will miss the delicious cuisine, but not the dripping nose and sweating face from spiciness.
I will miss the freedom from sweets and mirrors, which have lost some of their grip on me in this locale.
Shopping will be a shock to my wallet, I know, from which I will never fully recover.
I will miss dark skin and saris, and I will miss seeing people walking on the sides of the roads.
I might even miss the honking cars—once in a while—and surely driving at home will be quite monotonous.
I confess, sometimes I will miss the open attention from foreign men and curious children, who find me to be a novelty or something; I haven’t figured it out.
In turn, I will miss the novelty of journeying solo in an ancient culture, the adventure of treading into new territory.
Within myself I have journeyed anew. Pain, a daily companion, I have considered with a sort of appreciation.
Those “leprous” parts of myself, the ones I wish not to own, I realize are equally important to my being.
Already I miss visiting the leprosy colonies, but I don’t dwell on that;
I will miss the teachers and staff at Rising Star,
but most of all I will miss the childrens.
Those children have left an indelible impression on me—
literally, with their small hands firmly pulling mine to see something,
but it is their voices and phrases filling the internal conversation in my mind that I can’t leave behind.
I hear their voices, the syntax of those new to English, clothed in a singsong tone accompanied by the frequent headbobble.
The essence of India cannot be captured in a bottle, a book, or a photo album. Even my heart doesn’t accurately contain it.
A month of extensions later, I’ve had my confirmation that it’s okay to go.
In eleven days I will say, “Yesterday, when I was in India…”
6.15.11
When I get back to the U.S., I’m going swing dancing.
I will go camping, and spend quality time with my geographically scattered family. We’ll go boating, play games and stay up late talking.
And I will eat spinach instead of banana leaves, which I will probably miss.
I will miss the delicious cuisine, but not the dripping nose and sweating face from spiciness.
I will miss the freedom from sweets and mirrors, which have lost some of their grip on me in this locale.
Shopping will be a shock to my wallet, I know, from which I will never fully recover.
I will miss dark skin and saris, and I will miss seeing people walking on the sides of the roads.
I might even miss the honking cars—once in a while—and surely driving at home will be quite monotonous.
I confess, sometimes I will miss the open attention from foreign men and curious children, who find me to be a novelty or something; I haven’t figured it out.
In turn, I will miss the novelty of journeying solo in an ancient culture, the adventure of treading into new territory.
Within myself I have journeyed anew. Pain, a daily companion, I have considered with a sort of appreciation.
Those “leprous” parts of myself, the ones I wish not to own, I realize are equally important to my being.
Already I miss visiting the leprosy colonies, but I don’t dwell on that;
I will miss the teachers and staff at Rising Star,
but most of all I will miss the childrens.
Those children have left an indelible impression on me—
literally, with their small hands firmly pulling mine to see something,
but it is their voices and phrases filling the internal conversation in my mind that I can’t leave behind.
I hear their voices, the syntax of those new to English, clothed in a singsong tone accompanied by the frequent headbobble.
The essence of India cannot be captured in a bottle, a book, or a photo album. Even my heart doesn’t accurately contain it.
A month of extensions later, I’ve had my confirmation that it’s okay to go.
In eleven days I will say, “Yesterday, when I was in India…”
6.15.11
