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Being There

There are several elderly couples in my parent's neighborhood who have one or more of their children and grandchildren living abroad. I ran into at least have a dozen of them. They have visited their expat kids many times over the years similar to my parents so there is no mystery about life there. Notwithstanding the talk of how things are "there" is fraught with needless dramatic flourish. I see that with all these folks including my parents. There is a desire to glamorize the mundane, gloss over the struggle and strife it takes for a new immigrant to establish a foothold - something every one of us has had to deal with. 

It seems like being "there" is an accomplishment on its own does not matter the cost or the complexity. I ended up being a party pooper a few times around this crowd commingled with folks who don't have relatives abroad. Vignettes from my life my parents are eager to share with anyone who cares to listen most often make me cringe. Its like hearing a song with the tune all wrong, it grates on the nerves. I feel the need to imbue what they are saying with reality - they look crestfallen when I do that. It leaves the other parents like them quite perplexed too. There is a narrative about kids living abroad that they have all created together and here I am picking it apart. 

I view my immigrant journey as one fraught with challenges that I chose to take on because my alternatives were significantly worse. There are no free lunches for anyone. I might not have the same problems as the folks in Kolkata but they definitely don't have to deal with things I have to. There are days when I have wanted to compact and simplify my life so I could get return to the figurative womb of life. During my time in Kolkata recently there were a new hours when I experienced that exact feeling that I had been craving - the noise of my world had died down entirely as I cooked in the hot kitchen replete with inconveniences. The only goal for the day was to prepare a nice meal for a loved one. 

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