It is kind of strange that I am writing this on a train filled with rimmed glasses lost in the paged world of unfinished books or silenced by the paradigm of engineered melody – iPods.
My first day on train should have been no surprise, but for my ‘untrained to San Francisco BART travel’ mind and ways. A fellow passenger surprised by the papyrus unarmed me, adjusted her glasses and settled in for a small conversation. By the end of a four or so minute discussion about the weather and work she finally asked if I was a New Yorker.
Surprised and suppressing the “Blessed, I am a Desi, is it still so obvious that I have migrated from the ‘East’” with a smiling nod and a soft “Yes, but how do you know?”
Her smile gave me no answers but the sudden toss of the question brought a strange joy, ripples of happy thoughts and silent smiles to my face. And then I was lost in the one and odd years of East Coast extravaganza.
Hailing form the Silicon Valley of India, the transition to the Western Culture or mingling with the new crowds had never been an unimaginable task. Columbus had come in search of spices to his ‘Conceptual India’ and I came in search of concepts to Columbus’s America.
As the BART scanned through the small stations zooming past some, halting at some, my mind scanned through the streets of Harrison, NJ. Pictures of friends, the not so friendly friends and the unknown faces smiling in false recognitions, all flashing past the screen of brain.
The school, the streets, the park, my home away from home, brought back some fond memories:
Walking in the moonlight on a hot summer night to the waterworks by the park; sitting by the pond listening to the geese talking in an incomprehensible language; holding hands promising eternal friendships rather pseudopromisingly; crying, fighting, eloping from the everyday monotonicity and madness or often from unexpressed sadness; driving away to the bliss of nature to the cold Pocono Mountains, to the shores by the vast Atlantic ocean be it NJ or VA; late night walks to the coffee shop (DD) and loosing count of time over hot and cold lattes….
Come winter and waiting for the weather channels to declare snowstorm warnings in hope of a workless/study less day; building snowman after a cold freezing night; clad in super warm clothes to walk by the Hudson and see the moon rise over the New York skyline; running to the boardwalk just before midnight to catch a glimpse of the Empire state building before the lights go off; meandering through the sprinklers of a sleeping lawn and searching for restrooms at the middle of a drunk night!!!!
“Now approaching Union City station”. Wait, isn’t that an announcement on BART???
And I am zapped back to reality, hating to be disturbed and yet waiting to be a ‘San Francisco girl’.
May be in a few years when I go back to East Coast…Let me get off the train today!! Dreaming is what I do the best. Let me leave it for my journey tomorrow.
My first day on train should have been no surprise, but for my ‘untrained to San Francisco BART travel’ mind and ways. A fellow passenger surprised by the papyrus unarmed me, adjusted her glasses and settled in for a small conversation. By the end of a four or so minute discussion about the weather and work she finally asked if I was a New Yorker.
Surprised and suppressing the “Blessed, I am a Desi, is it still so obvious that I have migrated from the ‘East’” with a smiling nod and a soft “Yes, but how do you know?”
Her smile gave me no answers but the sudden toss of the question brought a strange joy, ripples of happy thoughts and silent smiles to my face. And then I was lost in the one and odd years of East Coast extravaganza.
Hailing form the Silicon Valley of India, the transition to the Western Culture or mingling with the new crowds had never been an unimaginable task. Columbus had come in search of spices to his ‘Conceptual India’ and I came in search of concepts to Columbus’s America.
As the BART scanned through the small stations zooming past some, halting at some, my mind scanned through the streets of Harrison, NJ. Pictures of friends, the not so friendly friends and the unknown faces smiling in false recognitions, all flashing past the screen of brain.
The school, the streets, the park, my home away from home, brought back some fond memories:
Walking in the moonlight on a hot summer night to the waterworks by the park; sitting by the pond listening to the geese talking in an incomprehensible language; holding hands promising eternal friendships rather pseudopromisingly; crying, fighting, eloping from the everyday monotonicity and madness or often from unexpressed sadness; driving away to the bliss of nature to the cold Pocono Mountains, to the shores by the vast Atlantic ocean be it NJ or VA; late night walks to the coffee shop (DD) and loosing count of time over hot and cold lattes….
Come winter and waiting for the weather channels to declare snowstorm warnings in hope of a workless/study less day; building snowman after a cold freezing night; clad in super warm clothes to walk by the Hudson and see the moon rise over the New York skyline; running to the boardwalk just before midnight to catch a glimpse of the Empire state building before the lights go off; meandering through the sprinklers of a sleeping lawn and searching for restrooms at the middle of a drunk night!!!!
“Now approaching Union City station”. Wait, isn’t that an announcement on BART???
And I am zapped back to reality, hating to be disturbed and yet waiting to be a ‘San Francisco girl’.
May be in a few years when I go back to East Coast…Let me get off the train today!! Dreaming is what I do the best. Let me leave it for my journey tomorrow.
