There is more to life than increasing its speed. -Gandhi
“Were the people friendly?”
“Was the culture shocking?”
“How bad was the poverty?”
When friends and relatives inquired about my recent trip to India, their questions often placed me on a romanticized plot line common in white American culture: the challenging-yet-transformative adventure to an “exotic” destination. While I appreciated the curiosity and excitement behind people’s requests for details, I struggled to describe the beauty of my experience in a way that was both satisfying for them and authentic for me.
I went to Mumbai to visit one of my best friends from college, an international student from India who moved back to work as a French teacher after graduation. For four and a half years, she witnessed me lurch and fumble through the never-ending process of becoming myself. While she listened with care to my hopes, woes, and existential ramblings, she also wasn’t afraid to administer an emergency dose of Perspective when I needed it.
When I left to see her, I had been living in Rochester for a little over five months. I was settled, but no one around me was someone I had the privilege of knowing for years. Drifting in and out of sleep on my transatlantic flight, the internalized adventure narrative told me I was going somewhere new. By the time I was sitting on my best friend’s bed in her Mumbai apartment, I realized my trip was actually a return to the familiar.
When her father walked into the room, he greeted me with a hearty and definitive “Welcome home.” We took a rickshaw to Starbucks to talk about books and boys. Despite warnings about food poisoning, the digestion issues I struggle with in the U.S. actually improved on a diet of all Indian food.
This isn’t to say we didn’t do our share of exciting tourism activities. We visited Mani Bhavan, the house-turned-museum where Gandhi lived and organized during his Quit India campaign. We saw the Gateway of India and explored caves of ancient stone carvings on Elephanta Island. They were once-in-a-lifetime outings and I was lucky to have them. But the element that stuck out the most was not the newness of the country or culture. Rather, it was the startling ease I felt in an environment I hadn’t experienced before.
On one of my last days, we went to “International Night” at my friend’s school. Each grade was assigned a UN development goal. While a small army of feisty primary schoolers rattled off their perspectives on sustainable energy and climate change, I smiled at the way we are constantly, quietly, and often unwittingly tending to the future of others. I felt a surge of gratitude for the family, city, and culture that nurtured my friend long before she found her way into my life.
The true gift of my trip wasn’t the adventure. It was the opportunity to appreciate the people in my life who allow me to relax into their presence and feel at home wherever my feet are planted. Rather than gaining new relationships and perspectives, India allowed me to slowly and lovingly inventory everything I already had.
