Autumn, 1992, Atlanta

I have booked my flight to India. I am going home. I am happy - yet apprehensive.

I feel like a warrior who faced insurmountable challenges, but remained steadfast in his determination to achieve his goal. A warrior who did not indulge in any act that he can’t share with his family n frnds. A warrior who sacrificed budding romances because he knew he will eventually return and did not want to get tied down to a country for wrong reasons. I have seen many in the US that came for education, but lost the sight of that goal and drifted in wine and women never to return….

I am keeping date with my destiny. India is my Karma Bhoomi as I had decided long time back. It’s time to walk the talk.

The night before my departure Dona invites me for the last super at the same restaurant we have been frequenting all these years. She tells me “ Whenever you return Shahid, it will be the same here”. (And she will keep her words, as I will see her again in 1999 and will realize nothing …not even the smell of her house has changed”. She is an angel….

After the dinner, I wanted to say good-bye to my frnd Ted Schelling. Dona drives me to his home. It is pre-mobile days, so I call Ted from pay phone at the lobby of the restaurant and take directions to his place. I write that address on a piece of paper I find in the restaurant lobby. We meet him and his family. Dona drops me back late at night. SK in the meantime has done all my packing on my behalf. Frndship it is…

Years later Dona gives me that piece of paper in which I had written the directions to Ted’s home. Apparently, I might have dropped that worthless piece of paper in Dona’s car after reaching Ted’s home. Dona must have found it while cleaning her car the next weekend. It was junk, yet she did not junk it. (The only other people who would not throw anything with my handwriting are my mom and my last in-house girl frnd). Blessings they are...or were...oh wait...

I am at the airport. All teared up. I have never worked in India and don’t know what awaits me in work scenario. I have some relations that needed to be entangled from the web of miscommunication… life is not going to be easy …not this fast.

Good byes are always tough for me. In my chilhood Maa had left me with my relatives after admitting me in class 1st at Chor Bazar Muncipal Urdu School. I had experienced the cutting away of my heart in two pieces at the age of five…. So its psychologicaly painful for me to say good-bye. (Mom still cries when I mention that morning when she left me to fend for myself…. off course I am glad she did. Else I wud not have gotten education in that badlands of U.P.)

When Steve says “ This is it man!”… I cry like a kid. I did not realize till then my little world has already taken roots in the soil of America. I had beautiful caring frnds that took care of me like a family. My roots had grown in that soil unknowingly…and am uprooting it. When I was falling in love, actually I was not just falling in love with A or FDR but the system…the culture…the air.

But, my world awaits me in India. There is no turning back now.

It’s a chilly autumn morning as my flights takes off from Hartsfield International airport. I look down from the window at the world I am leaving behind. I hear:

“ India is a dumpster…don’t go there”

“I love you. How do want me to meet you knowing that in a few months you will go back and I will never ever see you again?”

“I never thought I would fall in love with someone from overseas…. I love you with all my heart Shahid”

“You took a big leap from a municipal school to Georgia Tech, why undo it all? Don’t go back.”

"Ye Aasmano main kiya talash karta hai? Chal Cheetah 3 main tujhe Taare dikhataa hoon!!"

“This is home Shahid, this is home…there is no India for me now!”

Autumn, Mumbai, India

I reach Mumbai at 7pm.

And India refuses to recognize me immediately.

It’s a shocker I was not prepared for. Never thought about it. Have I changed? What part of me has been changed by America? I never picked up anything that did not meet my sensibility criteria then how come I am not recognizable now? I had frnds who never encouraged me to be anything but myself...I did not even pick up the damn accent?

I am confused. I am angry!

A story of a Hen and her chicks comes to mind.

A hen had 9 chicks. She used to hang out with them. Take care of them. Feed them. Protect them. One day the 9th chick fell into a drain full of colors. When he came out he went back to join the rest of his brothers. But they all refused to recognize him. They were seeing him in different color, while he was not aware of any colors on him.

The hen throws him out of the family. You are not one of us ..

Its been a while I read that story. I don’t remember how the story ended for that chick.

Just like I don’t know how this one is going to end!