Living the Dream with a Quest for Space

Crisp, heavy air filled with salt from the sea and humidity flows in through the balcony off our living room and find its way out through the kitchen balcony, along with the aroma of spices. My grandma cooking in the kitchen while my granddad watched TV, our maid washing the vessels, my mom and my two aunts getting ready to go to work, and my grandma’s sister and her son hanging out with us. I sat with my granddad and looked on upon all of them. We also had more relatives come stay with us anytime they visited our city. 

This was a typical day growing up. A lovely 900 sq. ft. house, with two bedrooms and two bathrooms, a long living and dining room with a balcony, leading into the kitchen and a kitchen balcony where all the cleaning supplies were loaded up and washing of clothes and utensils took place. Those were the happiest of times in life, when we literally bumped into each other but did not really realize it because of all the fun we had. We still managed to give privacy to my second aunt and uncle when my uncle’s family first came to visit us for an arranged marriage proposal. I still had my space and quiet when I had to prep for an important exam. My first aunt found her corner to write love letters to her fiancé and my grandparents found time every evening to reignite their romance by enjoying a cup of tea in the balcony and a long chat. That apartment gave us plenty and honestly, was quite big for us all. 

Once of the reasons I loved New York city was because I lived in a similar fashion. I found a less than 300 sq. ft. room for myself in an apartment which I shared with three other people. The walls of my room have witnessed laughter from my mom, boyfriend, friends, colleagues, acquaintances... A room on a hot summer night in Brooklyn hosted 8 of my grad school friends. I remember when one of my good friends called us to her place for lunch on the Upper East Side. Three of us went to her 5^th floor walkup and entered her house to realize it ended immediately. We all placed ourselves in corners we could find, as we popped open a window half way to allow for some ventilation. She made us the yummiest of home cooked south Indian food, which we relished as our elbows knocked each other. I’m yet to have sambar that tasty, or enjoyed a meal with so much joy!

We moved to Texas and encountered a lifestyle that was different. No one spoke of houses smaller than 1,500 sq. ft. or without a yard. My husband and I, both from typical south Indian middle class living continued to share a car and live in a smaller house. Our current place is beautiful… and is probably categorized as a “tiny” home in Austin. A 800 sq. ft. house with two rooms and one bathroom, it provides us both with just what we need at this stage of our life. We have been contemplating buying a house and have been doing our research this year – but nothing seems to satisfy our growing needs (or should I say wants) for our new home. The reasons we want to move are fairly legitimate since this house is literally falling apart on us since it was built in 1947 with almost no upgrades since then. So we started looking at other places we can move into. 

I’m using need very liberally in the rest of my rant here; of course, we need a two bed room should we have guests and lets not even discuss having a place with less than two bathrooms. We need a yard for our dog, because who will walk the dog every morning? A two-car garage for both our cars and space for visitors to park is a must. At one point I wonder if the house is for us, or potential visitors who spend less than 10% of a year with us? We need a kitchen that is big enough for more than two of us to be able to prep and cook together, because that is the only way we can cook and eat at home every day. The need goes on, our budget goes up, and houses still fall short of our needs.

Somehow anyone I speak to about this in this country, irrespective of their background, seem to think we need all of the things I’ve mentioned above, if not more. I’ve heard many people even say they don’t know how we have lived in a place that does not have a dishwasher, and it has been two years for us having lived this way. Of course, as I complained about my kitchen not having enough counter space, I also heard my cousin complain about how her kitchen is too big that her folks feel like they have a work out every time they cook. Who defines an optimal size for a kitchen anyway?

And before you think of it, let me clarify, no, we are not being frugal in our lifestyle because we are paying a price for being in a good neighborhood close to everything in the city, but the price is still very small, and for many, cannot justify us being content with this lifestyle. 

Well, I can try to wrap my head around folks in this country. What I find extremely difficult to comprehend is how our parents also seem to feel the same way, to the extent that I’ve had them tell us they will visit once we move to a bigger place. Coming from folks who have lived in a house with one bathroom since the 80-s to date. I am not complaining, I am just appalled at how our minds have changed, how much we take our lifestyle for granted. 

Aspirations are good, and I know wants drive our motivation to achieve more and ultimately live the life of our dreams. I cannot but think of all the times that I’ve hosted friends right from my room in Syracuse and Brooklyn, to our one bedroom in Jersey and two bedrooms in Texas. There is something exciting about living in a place where I can have a conversation with the entire house and have it cluttered with people and laughter. Less space in the kitchen allows for bumping into each other for more kisses, one bathroom allows us to be mindful of each other’s needs, and of course nothing can beat the Sunday afternoons of my husband, my pup, and me cozying up on our three-seater couch for a movie and nap…

I’ll hold these thoughts close to my heart, because once I put my pen down, I’ll go back to looking at less appealing 2000 sq. ft. houses, because I don’t like the tiles on the floor, or that it is not a granite or quartz counter tops in the kitchen. 

Ever-changing Dreams of Life

Travelled the roads I always knew,

Wandered spaces I knew to be true

Enlightened I felt reaching home,

Until I packed up again, ready to roam.

Seeking stability of normal,

I led each day towards the goal.

What is normal, I begin to seek,

Goals unknown, I start to feel weak.

My heart wanders, telling me its fine,

My mind ponders, wandering what life is mine.

Change is the only constant they said —

Evolution of thoughts were never read.

Born I am to fulfill dreams,

Of whose, I fail to concieve.

Laborious learning begins with labor,

Constant endeavors to succeed over

The goals are fulfilled every day,

I pray for every obstacle to be at bay,

With the constant drive to achieve,

Childhood memories are left to grieve..

Mid-life crisis became quarter life searches

Fulfilling dreams I never envisioned

Directionless I am, seeking vision…

Wanting to travel roads I never knew,

Spaces I did not know were true.

Home is in my heart, my lofe.

In search of dreams, I begin to roam.

Life is more than this, you little one,

Fight for yourself, or from crisis you will run,

Dream big for life goals with passion and sense,

To let the world know, you belonged here once.

Alone & Alive

For 22 yrs. of my life I remember waking up to bright sunshine, birds chirping, Rajaji talking before M.S.Shubalakshmi starts singing, the maid, my neighbor and more people talking about random people, dogs barking, buses honking, cars reversing to a ‘vande maataram’ tune…. The list goes on. One would never need an alarm to wake up in a place bursting with action starting from the time the milk man and newspaper comes at the wee hours of dawn.

If there was one thing I was never devoid of, even during the cyclones, crazy monsoons and scorching sun (agninakshatram times), was people. People who were genuine and cared. If I fell sick, I had the most random lady on the road telling me the best remedy and sometimes even giving it to me.

I remember when I had an accident and I was alone, there was a little shop where 2 women worked. I was sitting by the side walk and they brought me inside their shop which had just one chair - more like a bar stool. They opened a packet of coconut oil, wiped my wounds and applied it carefully. They gave me a packet of water and cursed the person who hit me on the wrong side of the road with all their heart.
I’ve never seen them before that and did not after that incident. During the scariest accident alone, I was not alone.

And that is my dear Madras.

Today, I see at least 50 people walk beside me on the streets of Manhattan, yet, I walk alone.

For the past 3 yrs. of my life, I wake up to an alarm set at 5 different times, that can snooze and yet everyday force myself to get out of bed into the gloomy, grey, cold world. I shudder to think what would happen to me if I faced an accident like the one I had before, here.

For the first time, I feel the void of people.

I never realized being alone could make a person not share, be concerned or be genuine. Every morning the lady who sells me coffee greets everyone with a "Hi Good morning, How is it going!" and thanks everyone with a "Thank you, have a good one!" with no hint of emotion.

Everyone talks about a culture-shock, the drastic weather difference or even the accent. The most striking difference to me, that hit me hard was how alone a person is in the world’s best place – America!

Years of being alone, surviving through a fast paced life of green bills and the corporate ladder can turn anyone into having just one best friend – oneself. Not only does the habit of living alone develops, but also, ensuring strong boundaries where no one enters to form any sort of a relationship – even of a neighbor.

In Madras I live in an apartment of 12 houses in total – I know each one of their names and am sure, at least 2-3 generations of their family. Here, I live in an apartment of 2 houses and do not have the faintest clue of who they are.

I sure do miss my Madras for more reasons than one, but this tops it all. I love where I am right now, and yet, feel the void of people more often than I would like.

Today, my fear is not living alone, but wanting to live alone.