Studying abroad was my childhood dream. Honestly, just a whimsy which grew wilder because of those clichéd Bollywood movies! I lived this one. I read the stories where people talked on how they miss home and the food and the people but my story was different. In ten months, I found my own little world in Brissy.
Ahmedabad to Australia was a giant leap and it wasn’t until I reached Singapore that the feeling sank in. Damn! Was I really going to another continent, all by myself? I couldn’t even ask someone to pinch me. Fortunately, I had my godparents pick me up from the airport and take me to Gold Coast. I cannot thank them enough for all the love and care, till today. But then, I was in Brisbane. I was befriending the world. Well, at least representatives of the world.
I was living with people from different countries. No matter how fancy it sounds, four girls in one house isn’t really a house at peace. If it wasn’t for our lovely landlady, we would be pulling each other’s hair. (No not literally, just have silent wars maybe?) We had our ups and downs but these strangers became my family. Our landlady was our fairy godmother who made us cupcakes and vanilla slice.
Food was not much of a problem for me since I loved cooking. For emergencies, I carried my stach of Maggi Masala everywhere. Later did I realise, Maggi masala WAS the problem. I was missing out on such amazing food and zests my taste buds were not even aware of. I literally had to graduate from calling everything bland (and adding red chilli on top of it) to accepting different cuisine for my housemate to take me for Yum Cha. I have tried Beef, Pork, Chicken feet and seafood that I can’t even recall. I love Malaysian and Mexican food. I consume Indian food just once a week. Yes, I said it.
You know the only problem there is? Doing the dishes. No wonder that’s the reason all couples fight. I used to hate doing the dishes and I still do. Sundays are only reserved for cleaning the house and doing the laundry. But then, that’s how we grew up. Our parents put us in such comfortable cocoon that doing all the chores for the first time gives all of us a reality check.
On top of all this, I paid the bills and I paid them by myself. I was working and studying and meeting new people. I met strangers I befriended. Strangers who became my family and when it is time to go back home to see everyone, I am struggling with goodbyes. I found my new home here with these lovely people. Even though I am so excited to see my family, I am not ready to leave Australia for six weeks.
Six weeks is a very long time to stay away and I had no clue I would say this but suddenly, this home seems closer than India. These people seem dearer. More importantly, I am going to miss the feeling of being a grownup, of irresponsibly taking all responsibilities and breezing in the independence.
Maybe the moment I go back to India, I might still be the 21 year old who left home; not the almost 22 year old who saw so much more of life in a span of ten months.
