Independence Day

I always stand up if the Indian national anthem is playing. Always. And I will deny this if we ever meet in real life – I even stood up when it was sung in uber corny movie K3G. I’m not sure if initially it was patriotism or just ingrained habit or just school parades for Independence Day. I am sure that now it's patriotism.

I am not going to wax lyrical about freedom from the British, partition and modern day India. Others do that far better. For me it's about being patriotic, if from a distance. And this year I shall do a better job of it than the short post last year. Although I must say that Nehru's speech was brilliant and maybe at that point no more needed saying.

There is something about living away from my homeland that brings out the patriotic in me. It’s akin to never having been closer to my folks than after I got married and moved out of their house. Suddenly my bones, blood and skin are more Indian. My brown-ness and strange neutral accent are special (only to me; they are just strange to people here).

Now that I live 8 flying hours away from India I take every opportunity to talk about India, the culture, the people, the food, the festivals, the gods, the cities, Delhi. And mainly I’m defending everything to the Brits who have no inkling. (I must give you an example here. Recently an American volunteer at my organization has announced that she is leaving us to go and live in Bangalore with her Indian boyfriend. Her line manager sidles up to me the other day and asks if I think “she will be alright in Bangalore. I mean do people there speak English? Will she be able to go out of the house on her own?”. What should I say?!)

I try and find a connection with every desi I meet: “So where did you grow up/ go to school/ college/ work?”. And if we find even the slightest of connections I work to make them my friends – another usually unsuccessful operation (but why is a whole other story)

I celebrate as many festivals as I can remember: Diwali, Holi, Karva chauth, Onam, Vishu and some. I celebrate them with more seriousness and piety than ever before. I have a more beautiful ‘puja’ than ever before. I visit as many temples as I can while on holiday in India.

I still think of Republic Day, Independence Day and Gandhi Jayanti as ‘my’ national holidays even though I haven’t been there for any of them for the past four years.

I hunt down obscure Indian recipes made by ancestors and try to recreate them. Mainly to disastrous results. At least I try.

I suddenly love dal – all kinds, cooked in all ways - something I successfully avoided eating till I hit 25.

I am suddenly more aware of my Indian-ness. I like accessorizing with nice Indian jewelry and patterned shawls/ scarves. I try not to stand out like a sore thumb but to wear the odd ethnic piece that is so far removed from the standard English Black and Blue.

I watch the news on the Indian channels everyday. I read the news on a number of Indian news sites. And I hurt when India hurts. I even try and read the BBC South Asia in Hindi so I don’t forget how to.

I call home and random family members all over the world on a regular basis, trying to cement that Indian connection. I have large phone bills.

I even miss the dreaded Delhi winters and am constantly favourably comparing it to the grey English one.

I miss the sunshine and the extreme temperatures it beats down on us. I miss the coolers with khus khus in the soaked side pads.

I miss the rain because it breaks and beats down in sheets, lifting the smell of mitti (which the English don’t have). And I compare that too, constantly, with the dripping Chinese torture rain in England. They are also missing any serious, meaningful thunder and lightening.

I never thought I would say this but I miss cricket. I only ever watched it live once in India and that was a blinder of a match but for the most part I just ignored it. Now I watch snatches of it with the ardent V when I can, cheering on the Indian team, screaming at the screen till I’m hoarse. Or better still watching the scintillating NatWest final against England, live at Lord’s, where Yuvraj and Kaif chased 325 to win. Sachin meeting us was a big deal

I miss the mess, the chaotic roads, the markets, Dilli Haat, the fabrics, the textures, the chaat, the unending curiosity, the people. I miss it all. And I love it like I never did when I was there.

I cry (not out loud or even with tears, just a strange internal crying) at strange hindi movies that show India so beautifully. Also when I hear the ‘Rang de basanti song’. And thanks to S I have a load of hindi music on my ipod that is prioritized over the English for when I travel to work.

I miss India – in case you missed what I’ve been drumming on about - very very much. And no, before you ask, we are not going back “in the foreseeable future”. As plans stand “we will live life day by day and see where the road takes us”. Besides I can’t imagine packing and moving – again - quite just yet.

I don’t think I have ever used the word Homeland before.