Friday, April 1, 2016

Home is where the heart is, could I ever call America home? #AtoZChallenge

Hello! If you've come to my blog, it's probably because you're also participating in the blogging challenge. In that case, all the best <3 p="">

My theme for the A to Z Challenge is: Life on another continent. 

When I moved to the America in early 2015 little did I know how much I would change as a person. I've changed, drastically, mostly for the best.  America will remain one of the best life lessons I'll ever receive. On independence, on myself, on what motivates me, what depresses me and what I expect  from life in general. I think America laid the foundation for all the relationships I have, had and will have. By America, I don't mean the country, but my life in the country.

When I arrived in Detroit some time in March, it was freezing and being from South India, the lowest temperature I've experienced is 20C and may be 4C when I was in Lucknow briefly, but that was it. So when I was hit with -22 C, I didn't for the life of me comprehend it. I didn't think I'd survive it. Honestly. After a long long flight from B'lore to Paris and then to Detroit and then to Pennsylvania it was maddening. However the Jetlag, the cold outside and a general anxiety of having to deal with immigration melted after I saw a familiar face at the airport that made everything worth it.

I never wanted to live anywhere other than India, I didn't really think I could ever be anything more than a tourist anywhere else. It is very easy to define home when you're in your own space, you can just simply say its where I live. But what if, where you live and where you come from are two different places? Can you begin to call something else home? Why was I calling India home? Was I calling India home because I was Indian? Was it because everyone I knew was from here? was it parents? was it my education? Why did a geographical location become an unshakable part of my identity?

'Home' such a difficult term to define. I started thinking of what I was thinking of when I said home and it hit me. Home is solace. Home is where you can walk around in a T shirt and not have anyone judge you. Home is not people, it is a feeling. Home is a feeling you cannot shake off. It's a craving to cannot satiate. Home is the ultimate luxury.

My "home" was a tiny little space in the middle of a forest. But that's not why I loved it. I loved it for a very different reason. This "home" was a physical structure that was testament to my time there. The place that saw one too many laughters, a place that saw my cooking disasters, a place that saw a mess that I can make. The place that saw me jump like an idiot when I saw it snowing, the place gave me sparrows. A physical space that I'd grown emotionally fond of. It was my (our) first home. I'd put a lot of time into it. I'd put a lot of thought into. I find my eyes welling up as I think of the place. I don't feel or understand the glamour with living in the US; but my home, that's the place I'm going to miss, perhaps forever. 


  1. Home can never be replaced. It is always that one place.
    Nice post Maggie :)
    Reema D’souza from
    Reem Writes...

  2. Beautiful post, Maggie. Home for me was always my parent's home in our small town, so coming home for me meant there. Which is where I live now :)
    Have a great weekend!

    My A2Zs @ As the Fates Would Have It & Promptly Written
    Follow Me (Ravyne) Twitter|Facebook

  3. Maggie I get to read your posts everyday in my inbox and I am instantly transported to your world .. Your writing is so personal , heartfelt and inspiring one can't help but feel excited about the journey you've made and the person you've become .. Am so hooked and this is my fav first post of the challenge :)


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