Preparing for Homeward Journey

Countdown had set in way back. In October when I stuffed my summer garments into the suitcase, I bade them farewell thus: “Thank you, T-shirts, bush-shirts and shorts. I felt light and comfortable sporting you. See you later in Bangalore. Bye till then.” I couldn’t guess how they felt – regretted for not being part of me for some time or, felt relieved at the respite.

In June last we booked just one-way ticket from India to USA, not sure how the situation would be like in both countries on our return date. Things had stabilized, and so the other day we booked our return tickets. That was enough to proclaim: “This Friday, four weeks from now, at this time we will be at the Phoenix departure lounge,” the figure four reducing every week.

The inherent ’last-time’ phobia is another sign. On Saturday, as the hair-stylist busied herself (yes, here it is mostly ladies) trying to locate hair on my head to deal with, I told myself, ’the last haircut in US before surrendering my head hereafter to Lokesh in Bangalore, for him to play to his heart’s content Tabla solo on my head (read: massage) at the concluding session; the last Amavasya tarpanam (oblations to the ancestors every new moon), or the last mail-check for promises of a complete dental implant in one day or, offering senior citizen homes at affordable prices…

We are foodies, but our aspiration extends just a little beyond tasting – surely not at the gourmet level. We had prepared a list of items we should lay our hands on during our stay in USA. We did succeed with Dunkin Donuts, Pecan pie, California kitchen pizza (for their thin-crust special), Bagel from Einsteen Brothers…but had to deny ourselves some other items as these shops had closed during the pandemic. But we count our blessings.

Then there are farewell invitations; d-i-law’s friend inviting us for lunch, son’s friend for dinner; the nextdoor couple for tea, or the lady afar reciprocating the gesture for our having invited her parents for dinner before they returned to India…

Finally, shopping. Not a pleasurable proposition when it is gift-shopping. I would just hold the cart for Aunty and d-i-l to fill in. Yes, you should buy something for the family that gets our apartment cleaned regularly, the friend who performed house warming in our absence, the gentleman with an amiable disposition who asked us to join for lunch at a religious ceremony though we just had nodding acquaintance only; or the friends who, through regular WhatsApp chats, keep us abreast of what is happening in our community, including corridor news – some in strict confidence; not to forget those who have booked us for one or the other items on day one of our arrival – morning coffee, breakfast, lunch, evening tea or dinner.

Before you think, “Oh what a tremendous circle Uncle and Aunty enjoy,” let me clarify that this princely treatment like Rashtrapathi ji riding the horse-driven coach waiving to the crowd on both sides of Rajpath, is confined to day one. From day two onwards it is ‘sadak chap’, like others in the crowd trying to negotiate one’s way in Nai Sarak, Chawri bazar, or gali Baraf Wali in Kinari bazar.

Thankfully, Aunty has bubble-packed all the fragile gifts and organized them in suitcases. She ensured that no suitcase weighs more than 49.5 pounds – a liberal .5-pound margin for any possible calibration difference between the home and airport weighing scales.

Moral: Make the most of your visit. Miss your base, but not the happenings.