Since the day my parents dragged me kicking and screaming out of India I’ve wanted to go back. I will never forget the feeling of the valium washing over me as the tears dried on my puffy cheeks and I watched the sun set over Hyderabad for the last time. That was 24 years ago. And my grand plans will put me back there – soon. It’s a five-year plan. Max.
I’ve always wanted to go back. But it’s become something more than want. It’s become need. I need to see it again. I need to smell the jasmine, hear the sounds of the city – the silence of night in the Palini Hills. To snap a eucy leaf in half and smell the sticky sap on my fingers. To hike and eat and watch the people. My life has been formed by these things, shaped by them. My memories are starting to fade & I need the color back – to drink it all in with my grown up eyes.
To sit in silence with a pencil and paper and write.
Oh my India.