Somewhere over Scandinavia, after dinner service, I become restless and loopy. Neither are good signs since half of this flight remains. I'm beginning to think mixing Benadryl, red wine and my messed up emotions was not a good idea. That concoction in association with readying for India, going to India, and being Indian, have triggered my desi feelings and affections. And these feelings are very different than what I feel about America, which is and will always be home --- even though growing up "Americans" would ask me where I came from, you know originally, because I didn't look like the “native” (and I don’t mean Ojibwe) Minnesotans.
India and "Indian" Indians are no better. Every trip to India so far (I have been back at least a deozen times) has resulted in people who look like me, rejecting me. To them, like to the Americans, I'm a foreigner. For some reason, America and prejudice, I get, but desi rejection and India herself, maintain a mysterious hold over me. It's like I long for her (India) because she (and her people) don't want to claim me as one of their own.
This last month, waiting to leave for India was excruciating. So when the flight left Newark, I felt little tears sting the corners of my eyes. As time ticks along, I want to get there already, but as I count, count, count, 30, 40, 50 minutes, then the hours one, two, three, time seems to move in reverse speed. That annoying map of the world that the airlines show with the altitude, air speed and time zones, going back and forth between miles and kilometers, doesn’t help either.
But soon, very soon, in less than 12 hours I will see Dad and then in less than 24 hours I will see Massi. More salt tears sting my eyes. Am I sad in my life? Or do I miss them so much that as the wait nears its end the pain and ache slowly release? Or is this stupid love triangle I find myself in with Town and Country, Dr. Froggy and maybe Tapan, taking it's toll on me? Is it possible that I like all of them? Or maybe I don’t like any of them because I'm not being the marrying kind, because I still have deep seated trust issues, which may be why I continually select emotionally unavailable men married to their careers?
And Durga helped me, this I know. I would be an even bigger emotional mess if I had slept with Town and Country. And I don’t need that kind of emotional heroin, especially not from someone who writes dismissive texts, “safe travels” --- thanks for the antiseptic response. And why was I expecting anything more from him? He makes it clear, time and time again; he is not offering what I seek. In this fuzzy state of sleep deprivation, Benadryl and wine, Desi Girl is beginning to tire of herself. Someone shake some sense into me already.