Failure or Adventure

My parents started their married life in Mumbai. A time of great adventure and discovery for my mother who had never been outside the confines of Kolkata until then. My father has a very different recollection of Mumbai than she does. For him it was a time of hardship, sacrifice and cutting corners every day to support his new family - I was born during their time there. 

Whatever charms that the city held for my mother were largely lost on him. He talks about the long commuter train rides, cramped living quarters, having to make a kitchen inside the main living area which was also the only room they had. Soon after I was born, he got a raise and could afford a separate bedroom. To him the entirely of his time in Mumbai, spoke to his failures as a provider for the family and he does not like to remember those times. My mother learned Hindi and a smattering of Marathi, made friends with the ladies in the neighborhood. She learned to cook dishes she had never tasted before. I heard stories about her life and times there into my high-school years. 

Reading about these sleep pods in SF brought to mind some of those conflicting accounts of my parents' time spent in Mumbai. Not quite the sleep pod but very cramped quarters all the same and renting a real home was a distant dream for them. Home ownership happened only in a different universe where they had no entry. To some, like my mother, the sleep pod years in SF could be about self-discovery, a time to recall with fond nostalgia. Others may view it as a failure they want to move past and forget about - like my father.