Pittsburgh
– The Seven-Year Sojourn
The
swing in the porch rocks gently. A balmy breeze teases occasional tingles from
the wind chime. Maple leaves glow into a fiery red in the afternoon sun.
For
the umpteenth time, I try to pen my thoughts about bidding goodbye to Pittsburgh, in less than a month. Past attempts at this resulted in half-finished sentences.
The words seemed silly, childish, sentimental, chaotic . . .
Frustrated,
I threw down my pen or browsed the internet, in despair. How do I reign in the
images that crowd my mind? How do I gather the memories that tumble out like a
pile of clothes from a disorganized closet?
Do I
start by saying how the past seven years have transformed me? Sure! I have
become more organized, independent, efficient, confident . . .
But
the words fade away. Instead, a sneering voice questions:
Organized?
Have you packed the mounds of books that must be shipped to Kolkata?
Independent?
Do you have a job, in Kolkata, to support yourself and your parents?
Efficient?
Have you fulfilled your academic goals for the semester? Have you finished all those
practical tasks required for your move back to Kolkata?
Confident?
Don’t your knees still shake at the
prospect of public speaking? Don’t you still procrastinate tasks that look too
overwhelming?
With
a sinking heart I admit that all of the above are true.
Yet,
I do feel an imperceptible change in myself.
I don’t mean the changes that people typically
associate with Indians, freshly back from the US. For that change, usually, amounts to a
litany of complaints: it’s too humid, it’s too filthy, people are inefficient,
nothing gets done on time, the political scene is a mess . . .
I
know that I will not join this litany. I don’t make any arrogant claims of
tolerance. Yes, I will feel frustrated and irritated by these problems. But I
will overcome – just as I overcame the freezing, Pittsburgh winters, the excruciating
work pressure and the merciless deadlines.
For Pittsburgh
was not just about those pains.
Pittsburgh
was about those professors, acquaintances and warm faces, who made “culture shock” an
alien concept for this sheltered girl of 27.
Pittsburgh
was about radiant Fall colours, glorious Spring flowers, melting city
lights in the rivers, picturesque hills and bridges and parks.
Pittsburgh
was about my fascinating, American landlord who knows more about India than I
will, possibly, ever do.
Pittsburgh
was about those dear friends who reaffirmed a long-cherished belief that
borders are mere shadow lines. Political, cultural, financial and national
boundaries melted away at their human touch.
I don’t
claim to be free of insecurities about the move. There are many nagging
questions.
Would
this degree earn me a job?
Would
I be able to re-adjust to living with my parents after living away from home so
long?
Do I
know enough to justify my so-called qualifications to a potential employer?
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| Sunset at Schenley Park - one of Pittsburgh's many treasures |
Yet, the
word Kolkata brings thoughts of warm hugs, balmy breezes, yummy food and
endless family gatherings.
So,
have these seven years changed me? I believe they have. I can now embrace my
insecurities, yet, hope to forge ahead.
And
this optimism and the fond memories are the twin legacies of this seven-year
sojourn.
