Consolation is to often found serendipitously - in my case in a post by one of my favorite bloggers waiterrant titled "Leftovers". He talks about how Average Joes end up with Smoking Babes and much more. While I'm not too bad, be it far from my humble self to claim emitting smoke from my person. Now, the Joe in question is arguably less than average, an obvious conclusion derivate of the observation in the said post.
So, if I ask "What gives ?" I am clearly at fault. Having consoled myself that I am yet another case in point, I feel more inclined towards acceptance bordering on resignation. A significant departure from complete shell-shock and resistance - the two immediate reactions on first setting eyes on the said Joe.
At that instant, I had wanted out or in the least wanted another chance. Now, I await a decision - i.e. Joe deciding with resounding finality that he and I are an item for life. I am aware that the item would look rather strange - I've borne the brunt of that as people have eyed us with curiosity bordering on disbelief.
I figure when you're together for real things change, people change, perceptions most likely do. The fact that I completely forget about his appearance when we talk, specially when he makes me laugh is all the proof I need. Besides, I like his smile and love his voice.
An expat desi friend and I were discussing what it means to return to India when you have cobbled together a life in a foreign country no matter how flawed and imperfect. We have both spent over a decade outside India and have kids who were born abroad and have spent very little time back home. Returning "home" is something a lot of new immigrants like L and myself think about. We want very much for that to be an option because a full assimilation into our country of domicile is likely never going to happen. L has visited India more often than I have and has a much better pulse on what's going on there. For me the strongest drag force working against my desire to return home is my experience of life as a woman in India. I neither want to live that suffocatingly sheltered existence myself nor subject J to it. The freedom, independence and safety I have had in here in suburban America was not even something I knew I could expect to have in India. I never knew what it felt t
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