“So, here you are
too foreign for home
too foreign for here
never enough for both”
And thus, in the middle of August, midsummer and vacation shenanigans I stepped on EK504 from Dubai to Mumbai. A horrible meal, 67 pages and 5 Gin&Tonics later I landed in the crucible of cultures and confusion; Mumbai. A four hour jeep ride and a lunch stop at McDonalds and we crossed the gate. As if we never left.
In many ways returning somewhere is harder than leaving it. Dragging my bags back to my room and seeing all the smiles I had parted with in May, I realised that not only had I lost my second years, I had lost my sense of belonging. Your second years are such forces when you arrive and they do set the tone for your experience. I used to ask them
“when do you become ready to be a second year?” to what they would answer
“you never really do.”
I didn’t quite realise just how true this was until I returned. The first week was wonderful, only your co-years and teachers around, late night dinners, turned parties, turned sleepovers, turned brunch. No expectations and a mutual understanding of what this place is, was and what we wanted it to be. That passed and our home was flooded with 120 new, excited, enthusiastic and wonderful first years, who’s only fault was, that they weren’t our second years. How can we dare to blame them for that? They will understand in August 2017.
Life is returning to normal, I won’t allow myself to be melodramatic, but it will never be the same and that is something we must learn to live with. I do like my hill, but just like the rest of us, it changes year after year.
“monsoon rains, first blocks
ringing, ringing loud and taking
me, taking me,
home away from