Most of us left the Indian shores to come here.
We have bid our farewells with teary eyes to our mothers.
We hugged our fathers and left without turning back.
We silently took leave from that girl next door peeping from behind the curtain.
We all came here, some long time back and some recently.
We all were alone in the beginning.
We missed our mothers cooking.
We missed the idli chaats on the road side.
We missed those days when we gathered with friends at a tea stall and ordered tea with samosas.
We missed that girl, whom we used to see daily in the bus, who may have smiled at us, who may even have talked to us in that angelic voice, if only we had the courage to talk.
Most of us grew out of it over here. We all made new friends.
We all clung to each other. We watched countless movies.
We even learnt to cook and throw pot luck parties where we always played Antakshari.
We confess that we even smiled at those beautiful girls across the street.
We all took trips to India; some annually, some less frequently.
We all tracked the "sale" events at Sears and KMart.
We all went to Indian Grocery Stores, and bought Rice and Rotis.
Most of us got married. We, went back home, searching for the love of a good woman-some found it in the old acquaintances from across the bus-stands, some found it in their parent's choice. Some of us took a gamble and married the one looking closest to Aishwarya Rai.
Now what do we do? We all work in software, We go to the local temple to socialise, we attend movie screenings, and argue countless times that Honda Accord is better than Toyota Camry or vice versa. At times, late night before falling asleep we switch on the stereo and listen to that old Hindi melody which makes us remember the land that was ours. We recall the green grass, the muddy roads, the wet monsoons, the pretty girls that we never talked to.
Published in Desiboyzmasala. Seems true!
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