The Quest(ions)

Another piece I recently wrote for my Writers Group where the topic was Quest.

It had been 9 months since I had quit working and 5 months since I had moved back from New York City. Here I was sitting literally at the edge of a cliff in Himachal Pradesh, wondering what life had in store for me next. Not for a moment was I worried or concerned - the emotion I felt mostly was ‘excitement’.

The Big Apple was actually the beginning of my quest. On a lark and without giving it much thought, I turned in my notice at a job in Bangalore that was not just paying me extremely well, it was convenient and relatively less demanding than my previous positions. Making a lot of money had stopped being of interest to me for a while.  ‘Convenient’ and ‘undemanding’ translated to boring and a waste of my time. Having just lost my last surviving parent, being single and responsibility free, it was time to make a change, get out of the rat race and experience a life that I never had time for. 

I turned down a senior management, high paying job that was first offered to me in New York. They couldn’t understand why I wanted a pay cut and a lower position when I didn’t have to take one. I tried explaining to them that I wanted a balanced life, a job that would allow me to have time to build a relationship with the city. If I had to spend my life at airports and inside buildings or on conference calls, I was better off in Bangalore. They continued to look puzzled and I could almost read their minds which said “who turns down more money you idiot”. 

Outside my apartment building in New York

The eighteen months in New York City were life changing for me. I moved into a one-bedroom apartment by Central Park and within a week it had everything new, from the largest piece of furniture to dessert spoons. Anybody walking into that apartment would find it hard to believe that I had just moved from India. I had never fallen in love with a city until then. A city that gave me the option to do as much as I wanted. I became a member of a Journalists Association, which organized events with authors, big names in media, folks in the movie industry among others. I attended film festivals and workshops conducted by famous Hollywood directors, went to concerts, the Opera, dance performances, watched shows on Broadway, off-Broadway and off-off-Broadway. I took culinary lessons, ate street food as well as ate at the snootiest restaurants. I celebrated Thanksgiving, Christmas, Diwali, Cinco de Mayo, St. Patricks Day, Easter, Halloween, you name it. I watched the US Open, NFL and NBA games at the stadiums, threw a Super Bowl party and celebrated on the streets when the Giants won. I probably did more in that year and a half than most people do in a decade. 

While I wasn’t quite sure what I was searching for, I also knew that it was time to move on to look for something else. A purpose for the rest of my life? Possibly!

The cottage in the clouds in Himachal where I spent a few months

So I did the cliched thing and decided to spend some time in the foothills of the Himalayas. Thanks to the generosity of a friend, I had a cottage to myself at the edge of a cliff. Once there was a huge storm and I was certain that the pre-fabricated home I was in was going to be blown away and I wouldn’t have to worry about a quest any longer. However, that didn’t happen so while I was there I enjoyed a variety of seasons, I made an effort to teach the local kids English, I read, I wrote some short stories that are still sitting in my old Macbook, I travelled some and trekked a lot. What I didn’t do was meditate, which may be the reason that I didn’t get any answers. But then I wasn’t even sure what my questions were any longer, since I was in such a happy place.

One of the homes in Navadarshanam

Recently I caught up with a relatively old friend and we went over to this place called Navadarshanam to spend the weekend. In all the years that I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her so happy. It was as if she had found herself, living a vegan sustainable lifestyle in a little community, planting vegetables, playing with the newborn calf, making chappatis in the communal kitchen and singing bhajans at night, she was completely in her element. Her school kid like excitement was infectious and I was so happy that she had made this discovery.

My friend Uma with Gauri the calf in Navadarshanam

As much as I loved spending my weekend there, I was happy to be home. A while ago I gave up ‘questing’ because I realized that I already had what people quest for. It was my life and the answers had come to me during the course of my adapting to not having a routine, not earning a salary and not conforming to a ‘normal’ lifestyle. 

Never in my life have I had as much as I do now. 

Where the Heart Was

I wrote this piece recently for a Writers group that I belong to. After some debate with myself, decided to share it with my world.

When I was just a little boy my parents moved into the apartment where I went on to spend seventeen years of my growing up life. With four older sisters, one of who got married when I was five, we were previously crammed into a modest two bedroom place of which I remember very little. My biggest memory of the older flat is running into our household help who was carrying a pot of hot water and having it spilled on me one morning. Something I would much rather forget.

The new apartment was large with four bedrooms, three baths, three balconies, a formal dining room and even a room for storing ’stuff’. The entire place had Italian tiles laid out on the floor which made it always look shiny and new. The bathrooms had granite walls and one of them was large enough to be a bedroom. Each time we had a new visitor, my dad would give them a tour of the 2400 square foot rental, with probably the same kind of pride as the owner.

It was always a very busy household with a revolving door of relatives who would come to stay for a while, whether it was for business or pleasure. Additionally there were friends of my sisters and mine that would drop by to hang out. I don’t think it was because of the apartment size - it was more because my mother was much more welcoming than the other mothers. The refrigerator was always packed with jugs full of summery drinks, refreshing lemonade, mango milk shake, bael sharbat etc., and varieties of sweets to satisfy a family of sugar lovers. A supply of snacks would keep coming from the kitchen, whenever there were people over, which was pretty much most of the time. A busy household it was for sure.

More than a hundred people were invited to my 10th birthday, which was celebrated right in that apartment. I had recently turned the corner from a long and serious illness and my parents were in the mood to party. The place was completely packed with people, an enormous cake had been ordered from my favorite bakery, Flury’s, and my bedspread was completely covered with presents. The excitement of opening those wrapped gifts, most of which were books, was the part I recollect most vividly. I also remember one of my uncles asking if it was my birthday or my wedding that was being celebrated!

In all the years that we lived there, my family saw both good times and rough times. Many years of affluence were followed by some years of struggle. We went from owning two cars, two drivers to using public transportation. Household help became minimal, the sister just older than me began working and I was tutoring school children while in college. I remember the stress that my parents were going through but I don’t remember us being unhappy. While eating at restaurants came to a stop, there was always food at the table. Looking back, I think it taught me many lessons that helped me get through life as a stronger person.

Over the course of my existence I’ve lived in eight different ‘homes’ but it’s the one I grew up in, the one in New Alipore, Calcutta, that must have made the biggest impact on me. I say ‘must have’ because that is the only place I dream about on a regular basis. Not the apartments I rented in Chicago, the house I owned in Naperville, Illinois, the pre-war apartment I loved in New York City or the penthouse that I’ve now rented out in Bangalore. It’s not as if I miss the place or even think about it, but more often than not, its the set for my dream theater.

Four years ago I went back to 617 ‘O’ Block, which is now occupied by a childhood friend and his family. The entire time that I was there I felt a strong sense of discomfort. I haven’t figured out if it was due to my friend intruding into my memories or if I still felt a sense of ownership for a space that was no longer mine. When they moved into the flat, they inherited a trunk with some possessions from our lives. Crazy about rock music from a very early age, there was a stack of LP records that I was so happy to see but had no clue what I could do with them. The biggest treasure in that trunk however, was a graduation photo of my mother, which I was sure had been lost.

Last year I passed by the building again but didn’t stop. The exteriors looked like they had been recently painted. I asked the taxi driver to slow down a little as I kept looking back until it was no longer in my line of vision. No there was no feeling of melancholy, no moistening of the eyes and no lump in the throat. That apartment was no longer home but it’s memories would be mine forever.

Someone I met recently asked where home was for me.

I thought about it for a second and replied, “it’s wherever I am at the moment”.