10 Things I Love About Madrid

1. You can play loud music at midnight with windows open and the neighbors never complain, since they are themselves celebrating loudly, drinking Mahou.

2. The stark difference between Salamanca and Malasaña. From fur coats and stylish coiffures to crop tops and pink hair, the city embraces everything.

3. How happy everyone is in the summer. You can feel it in the air.

4. How a cloud of laziness pervades the city come July, and not much is done or expected.

5. The acceptable length of shorts (or the lack of it thereof).

6. The continuous protests that disrupt the city, and the passion behind the motivation. You never know when you’d turn into a street and be joining screaming protestors.

7. The madness over football.

8. How blue the sky is. Even in winters.

9. The ability of the city to seem safe even at 2 am at night.

10.  The restaurants offering three course “menu del dia” for lunch.            

Wanderers, Survivors.

We are fighters and survivors. Wanderers. We have always been this way.

North Indians are believed to be descendants of the Indo-Aryans. The gene pool of North Indians carries Central Asian genetic lineage as well, thereby conclusively providing evidence of Indo-European linkages. Having settled in the Indo-Gangetic plain, life wasn’t easy yet. Constant invasions by Mongols in the 13^th century AD lead to the Mughal empire which was predominantly Islamic.

I have always wondered how the Hindus must have practiced their faith in turbulent times when their ruler followed another faith. Perhaps Akbars tolerance towards Hindus is revered world over, but it must have taken some resolute faith in their Gods for Hindus to unwaveringly continue on their path of religious enlightenment. The story of grit and perseverance doesn’t end here.

"Memory" by Satish Gujral

The British rule in India for most of 19^th century and the middle of 20^th century tore the nation along lines of religion. As a gift of independence, India was given borders. Borders that divided a Hindu India, and an Islamic Pakistan.

Millions moved across the border without food, water or any material possessions to get to their rightful land. Millions perished at the hands of hatred.

Out of this medley of movement, Delhi as it exists today was born. A city of refugees, wanderers, fighters, and survivors.

Over the years India, and it’s people has seen much strife – invasions, wars, battles, migrations, abandoned homes. But this has made us strong.            

It’s time we awaken our dormant self again, and rise up for what is right. A nation that deserves our attention, our voices and our dedication.

Wanderers, Wander Right.

The Second Rate Citizen

For all the faults that I may find in the public, social, religious and legal way of things in India, it takes some moment to dawn upon me that I will only ever be a “first rate citizen” of India and no other land. This realization may be befuddling to some, but can also be empowering if looked upon correctly.

Brain drain from India has been something that the middle class has always lauded and encouraged. With sons and daughters either studying or working “abroad” or married to a Non Resident Indian (NRI), much prestige can be earned at the evening gossip sessions in the neighborhood parks. Of course said sons and daughters  (self included) also show a keen proclivity to churn out high GMAT/GRE scores and run away to US and UK to acquire the much sought after masters education, never to return, slowly getting absorbed into the vortex of American commercialism or afternoon tea-drinking acts of ostentatious propriety.

Slowly, as the realization dawns that chaotic, confusing, overpopulated India is a great melting pot for stirring cultural conversations, but when it comes to actually living there, the poverty, the corruption, the reckless driving, the heat and stench, remind us of all things that made us stay away in the first place. And then ever so slowly, the second rate citizen is born. I am one of those, I must admit with much shame.

Living away from Delhi has been liberating in many ways but in no way has it been more profound than in making me realize the respect women can earn while on their own. Yet, every time I try to revel in this breath of fresh air, I am reminded that I need to come to another country to deserve this form or independence and respect. This angers me of course, but not enough to do something about it. Clearly, “ being the change, you want to see in the world” is easier said than done.

Being an expat is however, not all about moments of enlightenment and unbridled travel and decadence. It is more about the realization of the colour of your skin: how very brown it is. How sometimes being the only brown person on a European flight can get you an extra special treatment and an extra vigilant passport check even when traveling in the Schengen area doesn’t warrant one.

But this is the choice we ought to live with. Being the blue fish with the other blue fish in a dirty pond, or being a blue fish with other red fish in a clean pond.

 Waiting for the said pond to clean up may be a tad optimistic on my part.  But no matter where I roam or where I live, there is only one place that is home: India. Everything else is transitory.