[SenorJalapeno]

In the eagerness of my childhood I had long dreamt of living in any place other than home. Perhaps it was the persistent penury or perchance my inherent inability to find my place among my peers, but, for as long as I could remember, I would gaze at glossy pictures hastily torn from 'foreign' magazines with unperturbed longing, sighing the song of the one for whom home had become an encumbrance.

An uneasy childhood meandered into the rampant restlessness of youth that neither the seductive pleasures of secret vice nor the inviting embrace of a random siren of my fantasy could satisfy. Sadly, I can yet taste the lingering reek of the insouciant bitterness of a life uninterested in the love of family, the gift of friendship, or the culture into which God placed me.

The first opportunity that came knocking, I selfishly embraced, setting my sight on the distant horizon, that for a fleeting moment resembled the sum of all my desperate dreams yet to come true. So I left my family, my friends, my people, in the mist of unintended promises that were in retrospect as empty and grotesque as the hollow that was my life.

I moved from one strange country to another, not knowing what I wanted. The tragedy of life is that when one knows not what he or she wants, it is most certain they would either be satisfied with whatever comes their way, or worse, never realize the true significance of what they have and squander it. Since I did not know what I was searching for, I never found it. I constantly experimented with myself. My personality suffered far more drastic changes than my wardrobe or my appetite. I stuffed my face with frosted delights and my vocabulary with foreign phrases shamelessly plagiarised from others' conversations.

I slowly became someone I could barely recognize. During an occasional fit of boredom on a bland day, I wandered into a Bollywood offering- Kal Ho Naa Ho and mercifully the reordering of life from a self-inflicted chaos began. My desire for anything 'Desi' whether it be in the language of my birth, or the language I barely learnt in school- I slept through most of my Hindi classes- has become insatiable. Life has never been better.

I long for the raucous cacophony of the railway station, the festering of flies around the grimy Jalebi platter, the delicate fragrance of cardamom tea, the delectable aroma of vindaloo or the slippery feel of buttered naan! Joining this forum is an infinitesimal part of my eventual makeover, and I am so grateful that I found this at such a critical time. I am slowly beginning to discover all that I once despised, greedily gorging myself with songs and relishing the ensuing rendezvous with every memory it evokes- of childhood and youth amidst mango trees and gully cricket!

A few days ago, a non-Indian friend of mine remarked, 'You are beginning to smell like curry.' I have yet to receive a better compliment. This much I have learnt: Cherish what you have.

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