Home and The World

*SIGH*

Thursday, July 21, Biman Bangladesh Airlines Flight 091 from Dhaka to Kolkata.

I stayed up packing all night, and a car from the US Embassy in Bangladesh came to pick me up this morning to shuttle me to Zia Int'l Airport. I had to fight back tears with all my might as we drove through Dhaka. The sun was rising over the mosques and glass sky scrapers, illuminating the city that has been my home for almost a year. I literally had to pretend to myself that it was a routine Calcutta visit and that I'd be back next week. It's hard to pretend when you're carrying 63 kilograms of luggage with you.

I am writing from the cyber cafe near our home in Kolkata. I feel like I've already returned home since this city has been my Base in South Asia for the past ten months. I love Kolkata. I came home and ate a colorful vegetarian feast prepared by my grandmother and aunt, then crashed for a brief four-hour nap. I was awakened by the two of them having a protracted discussion in the room about whether my hands and feet look like my mother's or my father's. They were physically examining my fingers and toes as I dozed between states of consciousness.

Yesterday was easily the most physically and emotionally exhausting day of my life. Its one thing to cram packing or studying into the day before leaving a place, but never, EVER save emotional work for the end. Yesterday was a combination of celebration and mourning, office buildings and slums, receiving gifts and being pressured to give them. From one person I received the tiniest gesture of affection (a kiss on the back of my hand) that conveyed a year's worth of genuine love and friendship. I have never been so moved in my life by one physical act. I melted when another person embraced me and whispered into my ear "not all people in this world are like you." For one brief moment, I stopped crticizing the melodrama of the Bangalee goodbye and I put myself in the places of the people who I came to know and love this year. It must hurt to think that they might never see me again--ever. It sounds egocentric at first I know, but think about it. I will probably meet many more wonderful, vibrant, fascinating Bangladeshi people, but will they meet any more quirky American-Bengalis? That's why people always ask "will you forget me when you leave?" I finally get it!

What a roller coaster.

I am headed back to the Land of the Pilgrim's Pride tomorrow night. I will start from here to Bombay. I'm SO excited to see everyone back home, but I have a foreboding sense of emptiness at what I'm leaving behind.