My Passage to India

My most recent visit lasted an excruciatingly long three months. My parents hoped that I would broaden my horizons and cultivate an appreciation of my own roots. I hoped that I wouldn't miss too many Cubs games.   The idea for the trip took root after my parents received another sub-par report card and further blossomed after I gave my usual appallingly ambiguous excuses. I didn't want to go and argued the decision for two hours. I promised better grades, less television, and even studying, all during summer. They promised to call me every Tuesday and Thursday night and told me not to forget my toothbrush. At the airport, I waved goodbye to my unusually happy parents and boarded the plane. I smiled politely as I handed my ticket to a hostess already on a coffee-high at 5 a.m. and received directions to my seat for the next two days. I prayed for a quick two days in the air. But of course, we stopped at Zurich for refueling and had a short eight-hour delay due to a missing captain. Apparently, he didn't want to go either.My grandparents came two hours late to claim me at the airport. They fumbled with words as they tried to apologize for the delay. My grandfather blamed my grandmother and my grandmother blamed my grandfather and I blamed both of them for keeping me waiting alone.--nextpage-- Excited to go to sleep and not spend another minute in consciousness, I smiled and pointed to the baggage claim. We took a small vehicle called an auto rickshaw all the way to the far-off city of Hyderabad. The three-wheeled car bumped at every inconsistency on the dirt road and almost broke down at every sharp turn. Twice the driver had to pull to the side of the road and fiddle with the exhausted engine, all while enduring constant death-threats from my grandfather. Surprisingly, however, the engine always coughed and wheezed into labor and restarted the jerky ride. Three catnaps later, we came to a halt outside the large stone house.My grandfather stepped out of the auto rickshaw and unhinged a rusty steel gate and attempted to guide me to my new room. Half groggy, I staggered down a short hallway and collapsed onto the bed, the jet lag finally flexing its' muscle. Time slowed to a crawl as I tried in vain to entertain myself. Dubbed shows soon lost their magic as I realized the translations were horribly inaccurate. The library provided the most up-to-date books, but I was in no mood to read Gone with the Wind. So instead I spent my time watching foreign movies with my grandparents and accidentally broadening my horizons. The theatres were packed with well over two hundred people, all screaming and whistling and altogether making quite a large spectacle out of the movie experience. Stale spicy popcorn, 'Thumb's Up' Cola, and buttery sweets were my usual sustenance if the movie ran through lunchtime. In hindsight I was probably adjusting a little too well to the atmosphere.The days passed into weeks, and the weeks passed into months, when finally I would be departing the next morning. From the trip, I learned to become completely fluent in my native language but constantly long for the English language. I learned to cope with a simple life but yearn continuously for a complicated one. Theatres and grandparents and exotic food was fun, but I wanted to be back where I felt I belonged, back where I was raised, and back where I could watch Kerry Wood pitch. At the airport, I hugged and thanked my grandparents for their hospitality. As with every goodbye, there were tears, mostly on their part, and awkward moments, but still we tried to make the goodbye last as long as possible. We both knew it would be a long time before we would see each other again. When I arrived at what I called my real home, my parents asked how visiting my real home was. I answered that I had fun and enjoyed my summer vacation with my grandparents. But apparently, what I gained from the trip was actually a greater appreciation for my home in America. Never was a so happy see a 20-inch television screen or a microwave. That night, I again fell asleep, this time on a plush twelve inch mattress, with thoughts of a Cubs' push for the postseason playoffs.   Ravi Nunna

Ravi Nunna

2007-07-11T00:00:00Z

2001-06-15

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583 521 Scholarship

2007-07-11T00:00:00Z

596 active My Passage to India

2010-02-09T14:47:38Z

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