This was not intended to be a tear jerker,

just a representation of a past reality
that my Ma and I have been through.

Everyone of us, in lands alien to our own,
has to go through with it, in various degrees.

For some it will be minimal or may even be none at all,
for some so acute, that they will rush for the next possible passage ‘home’.
while rest of us will bumble along, copeing the best way we can.

That is what drew me to your blog this morning.

Like I wrote, our experiences,
even if reverse in the circumstances
may be parallel in relation to each other.
I am curious to read about your thoughts of being in a foreign land.
Maybe exchange our views as we go along?

I’ve been living abroad now for nearly 15 years and I don’t think there is a single time I’ve spoken wither when my mum hasn’t asked, “When are you coming home”. Soon mum, very soon.

I take your point
the house where one lives,
does become a home where the love and affection is.
be it India, or abroad, as long as one feels it as home.

On a wider level,
the society or the country abroad
may not extend the same love and affection,
and that is when the heart turns towards one’s own land.
But that is my personal take on this, I am sure many will disagree.

Thanks again for stopping by,
I hope you enjoy and carry on blogging.
and you are welcome to leave your thoughts here, whenever.

home! all i can say is, u know where ur home is when u walk thru the door and have a smile on ur face. no matter if its Desi ya western. ghar ghar hota hai.

i liked ur post:)
see ya:)

that includes you too, earthPal.
Thanks.

And here’s to our forever loved ones.

my definition of home
says you think of me as one of your kind.
I am really touched.
I didn’t expect to make good friends when I started blogging.
But I have.
Thanks again.

I still dream about my parents but mostly it’s my mum who I dream of. The dreams aren’t as frequent as they were but they still happen now and then and I usually wake up crying.

Here’s to our cherished loved ones.

I always feel at home reading your posts little indian.

The scientifically impossible I do right away
The spiritually miraculous takes a bit longer

thanks earthie,
I know she was, we were also best friends.

Life hasn’t been the same since she went away.
It is strange, she is in my dreams, almost everynight,
I sometimes will wake up in the morning think that was all real.

I have returned twice a year every year for many years now.
I know 6 weeks out of 52, is a small number,
but I am in touch with my past, my family, my roots.
I can enter my house, put on indian clothes,
my mind, my thoughts, my language, easily reverts back to bengali.
I can so easily forget that the day before I was many miles away.

Many of us ‘NRIs’ have had our hearts torn in two.
But for everyone of us,
there are as many who have proudly and painlessly snapped the ties.
There are many explanations given.