Why did you come back to India?
This is the question I get asked frequently. It has been over 8 months now since my return from the UK and this question does not seem to die down.
It looks like most of the people I know as friends, family, and acquaintances have taken it upon themselves to solve this mystery. The mystery is why did I come back to India because clearly to them whoever goes abroad to live never comes back. Maano abraod na hua underworld ho gaya jahan insaan jaata to apni marzi se hai par vapasi ka raasta hamesha ke liye band ho jaata hai.
In a way, I do get them. I am not the standard one.
They didn’t see any photographs of me on social media in fashionable clothes and shoes and hats. I robbed them of the opportunity to get a glimpse of the fancy vacations I went for. I didn’t put up a show of my happy self brimming with toothy smiles with “Hey look, I am having a superbly good time over here!” I didn’t do any of the above in reality. Such an anomaly I have been, I tell you.
Yet, in a way, I do get them. I am not the standard one.
Instead, I tell them about the not-so-good part more than the good part, based on my experiences, to give them the authentic picture of the abroad, the UK in my case. They inform me they have never heard ill about living in the west be it the UK or the USA and I have spoiled their dream about the west. I do not feel sorry for their shattered illusions.
Despite this, in a way, I do get them. I am not the standard one.