Ten-acity

"O Bhai...where art thou???"

Suddenly this comment from Nidhi on my last post woke me up and got me to write the post that I actually should have written on the 18th of July 2008.

Ten years. It's a long time. Longer than any of the cities in India I lived in. Flitting from city to city every two years due to Dad's transfers made it easy, easy for me to leave everything behind and head out of India at the age of 18 to live in a totally alien land. It wasn't easy, but to tell the truth, it wasn't too difficult either. Perhaps that was because on some levels, it felt like yet another transfer, except that I was by myself. I did not have a single acquaintance in Singapore, not a friend, not a relative (phew actually!), not a soul.

Start. From scratch.

Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if I had not got the scholarship, and decided to stay on in India and take up the Engineering or the Medical course. Me, a doctor? Naah, not so much. Me, an engineer? Naah, not so much either. Even though that's what I ended up studying here - the damn scholarship people had pretty much picked everything for me. But then, as I like to believe, the coolest people in the world are the electrical and electronics engineers who are not working as engineers. Ahem.

If I'd done that engineering course in India, would I have had the guts to quit my first job after three months and declare war on the world?

"I will not be an engineer I will not be an engineer I will not be an engineer."

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Perhaps not. I'd be too scared, too scared of what my parents would have to answer to relatives' questions. I was safe here, away from all of them, who did not need to know where I was working and as what. "She's working in Singapore." was sufficient to satisfy them. I would not be in the publishing industry for sure. I would not have had the guts to start from the very bottom - as an assistant editor - and work my way up. I would not have written the kids' books that I wrote. I would have been a miserable engineer somewhere. Or maybe not. Maybe I would have been happy. Because I wouldn't have known otherwise.

Whatever happened, it worked out fine for me. I am happy and most importantly, aware of it.

But is Singapore home?

Everytime I ask myself this question, I squirm. There are things I love about it, and things I hate about it. There are things I am so used to, that I can't do without them. It's safe. It's clean. The system actually works. The chilli crab is out of the world. The job keeps me happy. And then there are the things I could do without. The Singlish. The MSG. The occasional racial stereotypes. But then maybe it's still better than other places where racism is in your face? Then why does it bug me when someone asks me, "Oh you cook dinner every day? But how many different types of curry can there be anyway??" There you go. That's the image. The IT geeks who eat curry for all three meals every day and hang out at Little India in weekends. My friend was actually asked by someone, "So what do you guys do in the weekends? Hang out at Little India?" My friend replied, "Yup! Just like how you guys hang out at Chinatown." Totally awesome comeback. Left the guy speechless. Sometimes I want to do that. Leave them speechless. At other times, it feels like a defensive strategy. An "us" versus "them" thing. I have been here for ten years. Is there really an "us" versus "them"? Aren't I part of "them" by now? Shouldn't I be part of them by now?

Sometimes, I look at my life and think, "I should be so thankful." At other times, I look around and think, "I should be home." But what is home really? Is India home? Can I see myself moving and settling there? Not so much. Can I see myself settling here forever? Maybe. I don't know. Don't ask me that question. Don't. It makes me nervous.

"Are you applying for citizenship?" a colleague asked. Citizenship. Singapore citizenship. The gateway to a visa-free, hassle-free world of privileges. But here's the catch - I'd have to apply for a visa to go to India. A visa application to go back home. And that thought just breaks my heart. So no, I'm not ready for citizenship. Yet.

India is India, and Singapore is Singapore. Both have their pluses and both have their minuses. When I'm here, I can't stand anyone speaking unreasonably ill of India, and when I'm there, the same holds for Singapore. I have the best of both worlds. I'm happy. I'm comfortable. I'm just hours away from my parents. Then why isn't it home? How do we define home anyway? And just why can't I have two homes? What is stopping me from calling Singapore home?

Maybe, it's true. Maybe it really is that simple. That on some levels, I'm just taking Singapore for granted.

Isn't that what defines 'home'?

Well, I guess it's home then.