But not a material girl, especially when you realise what defines real happiness – the joy of giving and sharing
BEING AN INDIAN, born and raised in an old colonial state of Assam and then spent over a decade in NCR, I grew up with a fascination towards the West and the life in developed countries. From imported stuff to branded clothes, to western music to outfits, from visiting expats to friends, relatives and whoever traveled for a short stint to India with their bags full of so-called imported items, were looked at with awe and admiration. Many aspired and some made it to these countries and settled there for good. A handful in our known groups returned, too.
I too was no different and my first abroad trip to the UK was one where I went and came back with oodles of stories to tell, photographs to flaunt, and branded stuffs to brag about. Little did I know that it is after all, humans like all of us who live in other places until I started staying in the US.
Until I got married I made more enemies than friends because of my straightforward and blunt nature. I still do, but life mellows you down. Half of the curious set of cousins, old friends and relatives started calling and adding me on Facebook from nowhere just to see who the guy is. Some liked being called my cousin, a friend and what not, just because I stay in the US, as if the US has people who have no problems, and live hassle-free lives. A funny few set of people till date think only their sons and daughters can travel the world, make good money, and have the best of everything. What an irony!
Living in this great country has been a great eye-opener for me, too. It made me realise that no matter where you go, life and its struggles never end. They may be in different forms and all that glitters is definitely not gold. While this country does have an organised way of living, people pay a heavy price in form of taxes and insurance to maintain the same. Buying a pair of glasses or your year’s supply of contact lenses cost you a fortune despite the insurance you pay every month. That is when Indian postal service and USPS, along with your point of contact in India, come to your rescue by making it a better deal.
How much we envied students who would come here to study and would imagine their fun-filled life. How wrong we were and have been, in thinking so. When I listen to my husband’s struggle stories out here while he was studying to get a degree from one of the most prestigious universities in the US, or would say for any student studying here, I only have tears in my eyes and realise how our parents spent on us while we were students.
In India, students who live a life away from parents and those who can afford a basic full education in big cities have no clue how tough it gets for a teenager here the day one grows up to a teen. To pay for one’s own college, work alongside to pay for college tuition and also study in a busy environment to make a career, and then live with the fear of pink slip when one starts working or probably do two to three shift jobs – it’s a real struggle out here. This just reminds me of the guy helping me out at one of the shoes store who saw this netbook in my hand which I was carrying to trade in for a better one. He told his story of how his niece broke his laptop and the lamented the fact that he would not be able to buy another one until next year. I felt like giving my brand new netbook away to him. However, I called up my brother-in-law and arranged for a spare laptop to give him. It reminded me of old days when I bought my first laptop on installments.
The other day I was at the driver’s license centre for my license work and saw a man struggling to get out of his car and also take out his oxygen mask. He had come there to give his road test. I immediately got down the car and, although hesitant not to hurt his self-respect, asked if he needed help. He turned it down with a “No Thanks”. I was left wondering how he has been managing without anyone. For many it is the same story and it makes you so strong from within. The depression rate here is terrible. People can’t do much about it for there is so much to do. Earn a livelihood, no matter how much it snows, or how unwell you are, you got to raise kids, pay the bills, do the grocery, the laundry, the carpet cleaning... And dare you fall sick, a fortune of your paycheck goes in a mere checkup or tests, despite an insurance, mind you. No wonder they split bills in a live-in relationship. Having said that, however, I love the spirit of this country that accommodates people from all corners of this world, is still honest, and love animals and humans, equally. At the same time, I miss my country and things my country has to offer, which I don’t get here. The thought also makes me realise that every place has its own flaws and positive things. What media depicts or people tell may not be entirely true.
I have come to a point where a Coach handbag, or a BMW doesn’t appeal anymore because these are only a few brands we heard of in India back then, and thought whoever has it is the best person to be associated with. After all, diamonds are precious only because we made them such. I doubt anybody is going to check my earrings to check if they are real or fake. I still like to shop, but only for things that are worth its price or if genuinely need it. I haven’t become a saint and haven’t renounced the world but have learnt to donate the extra penny to someone who needs it more.
Come to think of it, “imported” is something that is made in one country with cheap labour and then sold at an exorbitant price by making it a brand in another, by adding some big designer names to it. Ironically, those who slog their behinds to make these products, get only a fraction of the money for their efforts. Even after you own all this or empty the entire section of a store, but if you can’t be true to yourself and do that extra bit for someone in need, you can never be happy. All this will be left behind when we kick the bucket. Jai Hind!