The Google Calendar notification popped up on my phone’s screen and said “Move to India Anniversary”. Within a fraction of a second, I felt shocked, awed, happy and then sad. How could I not remember the date of such a big decision I had made? It’s one of those life decisions where Janus himself shows up with two doors, two possibilities. Where Doctor Who could swoop in and perhaps the (my) world would look completely different. With that decision, an alternate universe was spit into creation and somewhere there’s a Vedi that continued to stay in Berlin; just like there’s an alternate Vedi that stayed in Pune, a third Vedi in Bangalore and a fourth in Barcelona.
And yet here I was, awestruck at the tumultuous time that had passed, happy to have made it this far and sad that I didn’t have much to show for it. It’s been a few weeks since May 23rd and I’ve had more time to process my feelings. It’s not true you know. Despite the pitiful eyes and hungry tongues asking me why I would ever ever ever leave a great white country like Germany, my life wouldn’t have been better there. It simply would’ve been different. I’ve swatted at those questions like I’m playing cricket with my livelihood on the line; like they could parcel me back to Berlin if I didn’t answer. Humour made its way through “and miss out on real mangoes?”, “but then I wouldn’t be sitting here with you”, and “I missed you too much you know”. I don’t think I’ve ever answered that question, and maybe one day I will. For now, the swishing tail of my cat and the coconut-y fragrance of my boyfriend’s cooking skills bring me back to the present.
In two years, I’ve changed much and gained much. My friend circle isn’t the one I started out with and I have a whole new best friend. I couldn’t find bouldering accessible, instead I have yoga classes 2-3 times a week. My family and I are still in 3 different places in the world but we meet at least once a week every chance we get - we even went to vote together. I have the same clothes in my wardrobe but they hang next to cotton kurtas and a rainbow of nail paints. I still write postcards but now I sell them too. I don’t cycle anywhere like in Berlin - and good riddance! I used to hate it. I have a new-to-me 11-year-old motorbike instead. I still have plants but in India, I can steal cuttings instead of swapping them with a stranger. And I do have a lot to show for these 2 years -
I live in 1 new house with my life partner
I have 1 cat (she adopted me) and 1 dog (a gift and a pain)
I started 3 new things - my multi-interest Art page, a Queer community for local fruity people and this newsletter!
I have 4 new tattoos, some tattooed by myself
I have visited at least 5 new cities and states: Leh and the villages in Ladakh, Patna in Bihar, Bhopal in Madhya Pradesh, Kolkata in West Bengal and Vishakhapatnam in Telangana
I have written 6 poems at the very least
All 7 days of the week are my gift to me since I quit working at a company
There are at least 8 pieces of artwork that I’ve made and sold
I have made more than 9 pieces of pottery from scratch
And I have 10 whole newsletter posts!
But I have transformed, in my own way. I wrote this piece earlier this year and submitted it for a residency program. Since I didn’t get accepted, perhaps this newsletter is where its home is:
On Slowing Down
I have very few friends that can fully relate to the combination of my bisexual orientation, gender fluidity, and polyamorous tendencies - but the one who does tells me that my Berlin self is different from my Indian self. I carry myself differently. So I swipe through my gallery of mirror selfies to find printed thrifted shirts, sneakers and shorts turning into linen kurtas, chappals and jhumkas. I see what they mean. Kinda. But do I feel what they mean?
Two years of constant busy-ness, being uprooted, rerouted, shot down, tossed around... Have I had time to ask myself how I feel? What I feel? Which I feel?
Did my Berlin self have more time and less scrutinizing eyes to explore my gender? They/them felt more accurate when I only had one language to rely on. But the tongue of my father assigns gender to natural phenomena like rain, rivers, trees, and the moon.
Endless therapy sessions later, I was still a seed that was blown too far away by the winds of change - floating, bustling, sweeping through places but not touching the ground long enough to take roots. What do we do when home and heart are nowhere? We go back. We go back to the place where people speak 3 languages like me, wear colours like me, are the different colours of filter coffee like me, love the sun like me, complain about the monsoon like me.
Another set of therapy sessions later, we realise it’s not quite enough. I feel restless, lost, like rock bottom, like I’m forgotten, like I sought them… sought what? Then a swamini tells me that my home is where my heart is - inside me. I am my own home, I must root within myself, learn to ground myself, breathe into myself, sit with myself, sit despite myself, sit despite anything. So I meditate - or try to at least. And in the meantime, I wear my Birkenstocks with my braided hair and I carry my world in my fanny pack - one made of ittar and hand-made wallets.
I find myself with a wider range of musicians in my playlist - I’m dating a musician after all, and this is one of the many ways he’s made my life richer. But I find myself going back to Kiss Me.
Like I told my best friend of 12 years, I’m living a life I didn’t even know I dreamed of! And I’m so lucky.
More on that later,
Vedi
Vishakhapatnam is in Andhra Pradesh
~ You Geography Nerd Lil Brother
Not everyone has the ability or observe themselves and their surroundings so minutely and then compose these observations into art like this.
You're a true artist. 🌸❤️