The Auscillating Indian: Caught up between two countries

Pic courtesy: Matt Evans (Visit Canberra)

Now that I have started this post, let’s get the negativity out once and for all. I never wished to migrate- leaving my motherland for a foreign shore was not part of my wildest dreams and I have had a few wild ones, trust me. I never wanted to move out of Mumbai either. I did that too of course, never to move back. So yes, life hasn’t really worked around the way I saw it, a decade ago. I was in fact, quite the self-appointed ambassador of staying rooted, sharing a sense of belonging with one’s city. I love Mumbai- the pulsating vibe of the city still rocks my boat. Every time I visit now, it embraces me like I had never gone, like an old relation who saw you fly the nest but can’t really get enough of you everytime you visit. So I remember sitting by the seaside with a good friend who wanted to move to Delhi back in the days when I was still in ‘Me Mumbaikar’ mode. I was forthright in my cause of trying to steer her away from the plan, emphasising the fact that the city would never accept her sense of freedom and space. Everyone who knew me could bet I would never move a limb to the blasted capital, with its extreme weather, the profusion of North Indian culture, the widely prevalent class divide, the issue of women’s safety, the so-called conservative outlook of the middle class and so on. There was enough to actually dislike the city. And then I moved there myself, surprising anyone who remotely knew me. And now I seem to have shocked more people in coming to terms with my migrating to Australia.

I have always been very nationalistic. Not the trigger-happy variety who think we should just kill every person who does not like my country, swearing my patriotism at every Indian flag I see or even the ones who believe they have done their bit by standing up for the anthem every time it plays in a movie theatre. I like to associate myself with the country which is tolerant amidst all its multicultural hues. I devour all kinds of Indian music, performing arts and cinema. I am similarly obsessed with reading good Indian authors writing in English. And with time, I came to accept even Delhi as my home simply because there was enough of Indianness around me to keep me grounded, secure and satiated. The opportunity for moving abroad was always open right since I was student. Then why let go of the seemingly comfortable life one has, and move bag and baggage, kid in tow to a place where I had no assurance of ever feeling that sense of belonging again? At an age when couples are usually falling in to the gentle rhythms of the daily grind- read marriage, children, permanent jobs etc. I was busy booking tickets to an island country, nearly 8000 kilometres and time zones away from India.

On the contrary, age has a lot to do with the decision of moving out. Unknowingly, I have been mentally listing down the things I see myself wanting for the future, and it wasn’t long before I found a place that ticked all the boxes. Especially after the birth of my child, it became essential to plan out her upbringing to give her the best she can get. Whenever I caught her coughing on the choking Delhi pollution on her way back from school, I asked myself, is this how she will struggle through her childhood? When I saw parents bar their children from playing unsupervised in the neighbourhood park, I wondered if this is the claustrophobic way I want her to be raised- always having to look out for her lest she become prey to crime against women in a country that is gaining a disturbing reputation for it. When I saw the reason why young parents were heaving their way through jobs in the private sector so that they could send their children to good English medium schools, I wondered if earning a fat pay cheque only to pay through your nose for that private school fee, tuition and day care was finally worth it- all for the price of not being able to be there for the actual upbringing of those kids they were spending a fortune on. Even after motherhood, women in competitive jobs are expected to be superhumans, clocking overtime and then rushing home to get supper in order, day after day. It is the ultimate balancing act I shuddered to undertake and am in awe of every woman who is managing to keep it all together. And after everything, I was confronted by my own need to want to have it all- a decent income that is enough to keep my financially independent status, time to nurture my child’s journey in to school, college and finally adulthood and even then, have time to relax, rejuvenate and rejoice in what I love to do for myself. Read a book, hell, may be even write one. Paint. Take a walk in the park (without wondering if a mosquito will bite me and bring me down with malaria!) Swim. Did modern urban life in India give me space and time to accomplish all this? Was I ready to give up good money, a great support system (relatives, grandparents and household help) and materialistic comforts, to seek more from life?

My husband and I over the past few years, have been discussing how we spend the better years of our life raising a family and nursing a job full of drudgery, only to end up with BP and a thousand other health ailments in the latter part of life, when you really actually get down time to call your own. We would fondly joke about taking off to the hills as soon as our daughter was old enough to take care of herself. So I wondered, what if we could combine the beauty of living amidst untamed and unspoilt nature with the best modern utilities of everyday life? For someone for whom God is in the details, I was up scouting for cities that met that match. And that’s how we found Canberra- a city that gave us ammunition enough to bid farewell to my first love- India.

With its bountiful natural beauty, quiet and private urban lifestyle, safe and secure domesticity, four striking seasons, wide roads and twenty minute commute around the city’s length and breadth and the best education prospects Australia could offer, this was the best place to move to as a young nuclear family. Add to that the surplus offers of working casual hours and still being able to earn a decent buck, no angst of fighting a rat race and work discipline of rising early, closing early and we had the means to earning our freedom post 6 pm.

The promise of good nutrition via healthy food products, parks and play areas at every corner, state-of-the-art housing within one’s budget and an education in a public school that empowers my child without costing a dime- plenty of reasons why my daughter has taken to the city like fish to the water. Speaking of water, we recently went out for a drive and within ten minutes, hit a happily gurgling river and camping site with kangaroos hopping about, curious to check us out, albeit from a distance. With its abundance of crystal clear lakes, endless expanses of green landscape and spectacular twilights over the valley, I know I am now breathing easy. Will this be my last stop as a migratory bird? Time and tide have taught me to believe, I can be proved wrong when it comes to life decisions. At least, I don’t hope to wallow in the predicatability that mid-life crisis will bring with it. Until the next twist of fate, I am taking in the lush red, yellow and orange hues of this pleasant autumn day, while bringing this post to a close against a backdrop of a swaying eucalyptus tree outside my kitchen window.