Relinquishing

As the days and months pass by, my initial impatience to remain in Canada and fierce desire to return to Kolkata has faded. At first, this was terrifying, and my heart fought back to grasp those feelings again.

I have to ensure everyone knows. 

However in hindsight, I realize that my passion and love for India will never quite go away. That zeal has merely acquired subtleties that I don't think I allowed myself when I came back to Canada. Instead of attempting to have my entire lifestyle, thought life and daydreams centered around Kolkata, I have learned to let those passions lessen to a more palatable simmer, rather than forcing it down everyone's throat at every mention of the country.

I will never forget Kolkata and all it gave me...but now I am learning that God may call me elsewhere, and that I have to learn to submit to that.


Photo: http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5051/5463752343_d7f47197e0_z.jpg

One Year

‎"The heart of India is its people, and it is a heart like no other. It is rich, not from what it owns, but from what it will offer to you, even while you are still a stranger. 

It will teach you how to eat with the fingers of your right hand. [...] India will introduce you to graciousness, where the opportunity to serve is held in high regard. It will show you where Mother Teresa left her heart...it values symbolism and tradition. It wiggles its head and tells you 'no problem' to whatever you ask. 

You will feel special, amazed, full, stirred, naive, helpless, enraged, awakened- and all in the first day. India is magical."

- Naomi Zacharias, "The Scent of Water"


A year ago today I left for Kolkata, the city that holds my heart with a fierce, relentless grip...refusing to let go despite dispute, depression, disillusionment. 


I miss all of it. 

Courage (সাহস)

Waking up,
Folding the sheets and putting away pillows,
Breakfast sounds through the curtain
the relentless sounds of traffic having already begun its chorus through the windows;
Eating toast, mangoes, bananas, eggs, cold chai sitting cross-legged on the floor,
Murmuring pass the jam, pass the sugar.

Waving goodbye to everyone leaving earlier,
Saying good morning to Thomas,
The feeling of an empty apartment

And once 9:25 turned around
We would lock the door,
Walk down the stairs,
And feel
Anticipation
Fear
Excitement
Dread
Incredulity
Joy.

To walk out from the safety of our apartment
To the unknown, unfamiliar, unseen...
The chaotic, relentless, and beautiful.

Waiting

Talked about Kolkata today with a friend whose husband is a missionary; made me miss everyone back in Kolkata terribly. Waiting patiently for the season in which I'll be able to go back. 

Inclinations

Maybe what I'm most afraid of is being called, not to the country which I have fallen in love with, but the one I reside in now. The country I never wanted to call home. 

Nostalgia

In no particular order, some things I deeply miss about Kolkata: 

keah, jaya and beena

supriya's dhal and rice

shuulei sarkar 

family group

the day camp altar call

beautiful and precarious saris

chai 

riding the trains

sticking out like a sore thumb

eating with my right, wiping with my left

durgan nager

the women's cart

medical camp days

the children of promod nager

teaching at Rainbow School, Bagmari children

daily monsoon rains

rolls. greasy, delicious rolls.