Today,
I completed exactly a month of leaving the US. As much as I love my new place, I
wondered why I am missing the US so much. When you ask such questions in
solitude, the universe gives you answers. I realized that happiness and sorrow
do not necessarily exist in series, but can coexist in parallel. Just because
you are happy about a new chapter does not mean that you will not be sad about
the conclusion of the previous chapter. So I let myself feel the happiness and
the sadness at the same time. I did not check my feelings. One needs to feel
what they are feeling, and be done with it. You don’t necessarily have to do
anything to rectify the situation, but just feel the feelings and be done with
it. So I allowed myself to do that.
To
crystallize my thoughts some more, my stuff arrived today, exactly one month
into my move here. Two suitcases with all my stuff, and a third suitcase that G
had painstakingly packed with food. Spices. Snacks. Things that I loved eating.
And when I opened those suitcases, I realized something. That our memories may
exist in the mind, but they are created in the body first. I had specifically
asked G to send me some specific brands of soaps and lotions, because I have
always used them. Sniffing those soaps and lotions brought back so many
memories. I unpacked my books, diaries, and notes, and when I touched them, my
body exactly knew how it felt touching them. What came back are memories of my
old apartment where I used to lie in bed on weekends and read those books. Bowls.
Knives. The familiar feel of my sweaters and coats. When I dabbed some perfume,
that smell reminded me of driving to work or going out for dinner with friends,
wearing that perfume. I opened some old letters to see the familiar writings of
friends, which brought back even more memories. Just like when I listen to
songs, every song brings back memories of where I heard it, who I heard it
with, and what was I doing then.
Memories
might exist in the mind, but it is the bodily feelings that create them. The senses
of sight, smell, hearing, taste, and touch. Just like the smell of my hands
after peeling garlic reminds me of Sunday lunches of steaming rice and goat
curry in Calcutta. Or the smell of coffee, that reminds me of Seattle. The smell
of Irish Spring soaps might not mean anything to you, but right now, they are
sitting in my closet, filling up my senses with my initial memories of the US. The
mind does not forget these memories because the body hasn’t forgotten. Our senses
get used to doing familiar things in
a repetitive pattern. The familiar taste as I bite into a Chipotle burrito. The
familiar sight of the green freeway signs in English. The familiar sounds of listening
to the NPR radio every morning, or listening to certain familiar voices when
you dial a phone number. The familiar feel of the bed, the car’s steering, or
the phone’s touch screen. It is this familiarity that substantially reduces
cognitive overload, the energy spent to figure things out, because things are
mapped into a pattern in your head. What is going on for me right now is some
active, heavy duty deconstruction and reconstruction. Like new tissue replacing
old tissue. New muscle memory replacing old muscle memory. New sights and
smells and sounds and tastes and sensations are replacing the older ones. I
guess there are two kinds of missing something. One, where the loss engulfs you
and consumes you, and does not let you move forward. And the other where your
sense of loss doesn’t stop you from embracing whatever the future offers, and
while you paint your new life, old memories remain as smudged sketches, a happy
reminder of the past and a hopeful possibility of the future.
So as I build newer memories in
Europe, I am savoring the remnants of my older memories from the US. They will
fade with time, I know they will. Even the memories of people, their voices,
and how they look fade with time. New data replaces old data. New technology
replaces old technology. What I am caught in right now is kind of a limbo, an
in-between, transition zone. But all said and done, I am glad that the
suitcases made their way here fine, just like I did.
sunshine
