To move or not?

After living in the US and Germany for twelve years, I moved to India about four years ago. Many wrongly think that I moved “back” to India, and I have “settled down” because my parents are getting old and they need me, and because moving back to the home country seems like the logical thing to do for many. I did not move to India because I am from India. I moved to India because this was the best job opportunity I had. After living elsewhere for better work opportunities, my best opportunity happened to be right where I grew up.

 

Oddly, I had no anxieties when moving to the US. I was 25-years old and very excited about living alone for the first time. I also had very little information about where I am going (both geographically and metaphorically). I did not know anyone from the US, wrongly thought that I was moving to the east coast (Washington, D.C., and the state of Washington, I could not tell them apart), and took a huge leap of faith. I had so little data and so few choices (I think I had four funded PhD offers) that I did not experience analysis paralysis.

 

This time, I got some very valuable advice from G, my first friend in the US. She said that to feel at home in India, I must give it at least three years and not quit before that. I see the value of this wisdom now. 

 

Many have asked me about my move, possibly because they are considering a move themselves, or looking for justifications not to move. I know many immigrants who constantly wonder what life would be like in India. There is no one right answer. No matter where you live, you will have your excitements and disappointments. But if you wish to make an informed move, I will strongly recommend listing all kinds of capital you think you have. You can only work with what you have and not what you wish you had. This is what I had: 

 

1. Family: My biggest capital was my family support. Moving to any country requires a lot of paperwork, more so in India. It was mind boggling and stressful. My parents, being insiders to the system, helped me figure out a lot of these things. When my parents could not help, my sister stepped in. Getting an Aadhar Card, setting up bank accounts, investing money, finding a financial consultant, buying a house, applying for a loan, paying off my mortgage, even where to buy furniture and office wear, they helped me with everything. They did most of the running around while I mostly signed documents. I could not have imagined this move later in life and without this level of family support. It always helps to have people who are insiders to the system. 

 

2. My personal background: It immensely helped that I moved to the country where I look and speak and dress like everyone. I did not have to work hard to fit in. I will never have to worry about visa, immigration, and stamping my passport. I can work anywhere and do anything (or nothing). No one will tell me that I have a different accent. No one will ask me when I am going back. Being fluent in English and Hindi, I can easily navigate most of India. The system may be chaotic, but I also know exactly how it works. I do not have to look for an Indian association or Indian group to find friends or wait till the weekend to celebrate any festival.  

 

3. My educational background: My US degrees and work experience are highly valued at my workplace and made me a competitive candidate.

 

4. My employer: The country I left and the country I came back to are very different. I was no longer visiting as a tourist annually. Daily life in India is hard. Anything you do takes a long time and standing in many long lines. My employer cushioned me from a lot of things. I did not need to figure out where to live, how to commute, and how to set up home. My employer took care of everything I needed during the first few months to settle in comfortably. My bags were held at the customs for a while, but my employer ensured that they were released soon. I had a cooking gas connection within no time. I cannot imagine this level of support in the other jobs I have had.

 

Most of my transition pains happened because initially, I expected things to work out in ways that it worked out in other countries. I cannot go to SBI and expect that I will have the Bank of America experience. I cannot stand in line keeping distance and expect that people after I will not jump lines or elbow my back. I cannot do an impromptu road trip and expect to find a (clean) restroom in the wilderness. I cannot expect to drive in peace, something I immensely enjoyed in the US. I cannot expect to fulfil my cravings for Chipotle (although Calcutta mutton biryani has more than compensated for it). I suffered so long as I brought my prior baggage and expected that things will work out the same way. Once I reset my expectations and stopped whining and complaining, adjusting was easy.

 

Daily life in India is hard in many ways. But it is also awesome in other ways. I took G’s three-year advice. I also decided that if things did not work here, I would move elsewhere. I am happy to report that it has been more than four years and I am still here. If you have a well-paying job, the quality of life in India could be much richer than life in the west. One could bypass most of the struggles one would experience anywhere.

 

A caveat: My experiences are but one data point, one lens of looking at the world. My experiences are also shaped by the capital I have. If you are considering a move to anywhere, here are the things you should think about:

 

1.      What kind of a position (job) am I moving to?

2.      Is it better or worse than what I have? In what ways?

3.      What kind of capital do I have?

4.      Would it be possible to go back if I needed to?

5.      Would it be possible to maintain my ties with where I am now?

6.      Do I see myself living here for at least five years?

7.      If things do not work out, do I have a Plan B?

 

Would I move again? Yes, if the opportunities are better than what I have now. However, the benefits I get here would be hard to match. I also have tenure. For the first time in fifteen years, I am not looking for, applying to, and interviewing for jobs every year. My employer is stable and wealthy. Retirement is decades away. The hurdles I experienced at first (for example, not having enough courses to teach) have all worked out. I get to see my family often (sometimes too often). It would be hard to overlook these and move elsewhere. 

 

sunshine

Foucault’s Panopticon

Late January, 2020

Winter is coming to an end, and I am grateful for the remaining few early mornings that are chilly. One such chilly morning, I was eating breakfast in the kitchen when I heard the bells ringing loudly in the neighbor’s house. I stared out of the kitchen window to see the big banana plant obstructing my view. It is the morning of Saraswati pujo. I was not sure if I found it odd or relieving that I was not invited. It’s one of those things where you feel left out when not invited but don’t get excited either when invited. There were clear signs of a pujo in progress. More bells ringing, some conch-blowing, and the telltale burning smell of incense sticks.

I did get invited though, to a different house. I went there shortly before class. It was a ghoroa pujo, not a large gathering, everything done at home. No selfies or videos, no photo shoots, no dressing up and posing in front of Saraswati. There was kool (the berry) offered to the goddess. I had kool after a decade. The priest is a fellow faculty I have never seen in a dhuti before. I met a few faculty and their partners.

A particular woman I met first thought that I am her husband’s student and was surprised to learn that my office is located next to his. “How come I have not heard of you before?” she asked me. I am torn between a witty comeback and a sarcastic one, but I decided to nod politely and not say anything. I was there to pay my respect to the goddess from the department of education. But she is not satisfied with my nod. She added, “How come none of the maids told me about you? I have never seen you during my morning walks either.”

“That's because I do not have a maid and I do not go for morning walks,” I replied.

“Well, even not having a maid is news on campus. Anyway, good to meet you, will look out for you during my walks.”

I am not sure why some old woman who has never met me before was so fixated on bumping into me during her walks. It reminded me of Foucault's panopticon metaphor. People tend to modify their behavior when they know they are being watched, as Foucault writes in his book, “Discipline and Punish.” I know that I am being watched, my garden is being watched, what plants I grow or not grow, the kind of clothes hanging from the balcony, the kinds of shoes and slippers outside my door, the lights from the house, everything is being watched. Do I care? I don't know. I know that a bunch of maids watch me every day, because some actually knock on my door every now and then and ask me why I am not hiring them. I know that the sweepers who sweep my walkway watch me every day, they keep asking me if I need a gardener. And now, an additional person on campus will be watching me too, unable to come to terms with the shock that she did not know me before.

I got down on my knees, paid my homage to the goddess, thanked my hosts for inviting me, and left for class. My immediate neighbors are performing Saraswati pujo and not inviting me. I am watching them too!

sunshine