joie de l'écriture

Changing cities in India can have the most devastating effect on your mind, because it makes you feel like you have just spilled beans out of a bean bag. It’s the randomness of the things, people and events around you that hits you first. You realize you cannot relate to it. What makes it even more difficult is a strong affiliation to the local language and an acute degree of localization that is so evident through the billboards, signboards and most of everything else. It’s hard to fight two things - the aphasia and the weather – both of which instantly grip you as you enter the new terrain. You get used to the latter. The former requires a conscious effort, an alert and interpretive mind, open ears and most importantly tons of endurance. You realize only the local language can bridge the gap between talking and communication. You would discover moments of exasperation and hopelessness when you fend for yourselves. Your pursuit to connect to the place would seem to be bearing no fruit until you decide to stop forcing a square peg in a round hole. Then you would embrace change. The city would hug you back in return. You would be able to gradually maneuver into a different speed lane and adopt the new pace of living life. You would be less confound and more intrigued by the mannerisms in the new habitat. Roads would be more welcoming, people would be more forthcoming and life will be more accommodating to new beginnings.