The Happiest in the World


As far as I’m concerned, Ramzan never started this year. Previous years I have tried to conjure up the routine, the rituals, the people even, to get a Ramzan feeling going. This year, with the NY heat, the crazy work and the guest at home, it seems impossible.

Appropriately, HD and I went to a 4th of July party last night. It was actually quite lovely even though I am not so much a fireworks person. Nonetheless, it was indeed quite nice being crammed on to a Manhattan rooftop with a view of Brooklyn Bridge and then to be crammed inside a smaller Manhattan apartment. But what can I say, it transformed unexpectedly to be a dancing hip hop party; the small space lent itself to an intimate vibe and it was perfect. The music, the friends, the cool summer breeze through the balcony, the old-time hip-hop to take us back to our uni days.

I have stopped resisting having to leave this place but as I spend this one last calm weekend here alone, I can’t help but feel that this was the best place ever. I don’t know why I think that because it is certainly wrong and I have had many other moments suspended in time that were wonderful in wonderful homes; but right now it’s this one and people are partying outside with loud music appropriate for a tropical island and it doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t bother me that I slept only 6 hours last night and got back late with the man that I love because I was telling him that I had such a good time with him.

I try to tell him to enjoy what he gets now because I don’t know what lies ahead and maybe the summer will whizz by and we’ll be apart and missing each other and I will swear to myself and God that I had never wanted it to be this way. Unless HD gets a job in DC sooner rather than later, we will learn to be apart. But nothing can change the fact that we will leave the best apartment that we have ever lived in. Looking at the pictures from last night, I can’t help but wonder if I will look back at our youthful and glowing happy faces and think that this was the most wonderful time. I won’t remember the angst and the struggle and the self-doubt and the ‘where am I goings?’. I will think these two people who go to rooftop parties are the happiest in the world and they don’t have a care in the world.


Another dancing post

Why do I go to events where I know practically no one and act all hyper and dance like I’m on drugs? I don’t know. I think the not knowing anyone helps take the pressure off. Also, not wearing shoes helps a lot in the crazy jumping department. Last night, I attended my first Garba event and it went super. I still have no idea what we were celebrating, all I know is that it was an occasion to dress like a Bollywood star and dance. When we arrived at the hall, women, men and children of all ages were doing the dandiya dance. It is actually very nice to watch and it also seemed as if everyone was in rythym since the sound of the danidiya clicking was synchronised. Wow. D had wandered off so I talked a complete stranger into being my partner and teaching me. She was an incredibly sweet girl in collège who actually thought I was her age and yes I am very proud of my mingling skils. On my first attempt, I messed up the rythym quite a bit but caught on soon enough. Later on, D and I completely let our hair down and did all the crazy dance moves to songs new and old.  And that is why, I would like to say from now on that I am a good dancer. I have received a few compliments from time to time in my life on my dancing but I find them very hard to accept. I always think it’s just a fluke. It takes a conscious effort to stop the self-critical and judgmental voice in my own head and dancing like crazy is a great way towards self-acceptance. So from now on, I’m a good dancer.

I belong to you

In my life, I haven’t always had a steady group of friends, nor has there been a pattern in the friends I make. In some places there have been many, and in others, well there have been a chosen one or two. It’s hard to figure out whether I am a social butterfly or a shy and private person. When I was away from home, I looked for the kind of friends who could replace it. Being a TCK didn’t make it easy. Since I turned 18 and went off to university, I met and befriended many different kinds of people. It took me ahwile to figure out who I was, what I was looking for and why I sometimes felt like there was no one in that huge city we call London. Reading the book ‘Third Culture Kids’ by Pollock and Van Reken was like reading something about myself that I already knew but hadn’t been able to put into words. I also enjoyed reading about my Myers-Briggs personality type. It made me feel found. I did finally find friends that felt like home when I was there. It took awhile but I did. And when I did, I thought that was it; that even though we hadn’t lived the same lives we were connected now.

When I moved back home, I thought that it was temporary. After all, I had already found another home. Not that the location was ideal but home is where the heart is, right? I must have let go of that sense of temporariness though, because I did try to give a 100% regardless of where I was or for however long. Maybe it had occurred to me earlier than Friday night or maybe it hadn’t, but when I broke into a silly dance to ‘Billie Jean’ with these ‘new’ friends of mine, I realised that life was great with them. Although I missed my ‘home’ friends from London, and although I didn’t need another home because I was already with my family, I felt a strong sense of attachment to these friends. Strong enough to want to pack them up and take them with me next time I moved. I can’t imagine life without these guys anymore, tied as we are by song, dance, and good times. Knowing that I am leaving again may have made me feel like these are interim friends but there is nothing interim about them anymore. My list of friends and loves only grows and I don’t know how I live with pieces of me all over the world.