The wind blows, ruffling my very dark and very brown hair straight into my face. I have on my thinking face, thinking shirt and comfortable shoes because I am about to take a trip down memory lane. Take a walk with me to the densely populated streets of Delhi — because no one knows where Noida is — and walk towards the red brick house with more plants than any other house in the neighbourhood. Funnily enough, we’re all allergic to pollen.
And that is just the beginning of the beautiful mess that is my family.
If you walk up the rounding stairs, and dodge my very talkative grandmother, you will come across this sign that we have on our wall, “If you think we’re a mess now, come closer, some days we’re even worse.”
My family is messy — we fight, we laugh and we have very heated political debates. We do not fit into what my younger self thought was the perfect family. It was only when I travelled across literal oceans did I truly understand what family meant. And since not everyone can sit in an airplane for 20 hours, I am here to share what I have learnt with you, even if you did not ask.
You’re welcome.
In Canada, if you sit down and close your eyes, you’re surrounded by the rustling of trees, the chirping of the birds, a salty smell in the breeze and the cold touching your fingertips. If you close your eyes in India, you’re going to hear the entire conversation your parents are having, your younger cousins screaming at the TV and the very large group of relatives laughing like there’s no tomorrow.
Picture a small village, where everyone knows everyone, they know what time you wake up and what time you run to the bathroom after your first cup of tea. That, my friends, is what a family meant for me. In my culture, I was always introduced to every other person as a cousin, or an aunt or an uncle. Everyone was family, regardless of whether they shared even 12.5% of your genetics. Because who cares about biology when existentialism can make all of that seem so fragile.
I grew up calling everyone auntie or uncle and at one point, I could not even explain how they were related to me. As a 14-year old, it did not bother me because they always brought me gifts when they came to visit, genetics were not my primary concern.
As you might tell, I am an only child.
But as I grew up, and went through a very embarrassing emo phase, my family suddenly shrunk. Now, for me, my family was this very small group of people that had seen me go through the awkward puberty years and the My Chemical Romance phase. They deserved to be my family. My friends, that I had known for all my life, were also family. As I look back on it now, it seems naive but at that time, they really were my family. They knew when I ran to the bathroom after my first cup of tea.
Flash forward through a few years and some truly devastating exams, I graduated high-school! It was so exciting, but what now?
The toughest decision that I have had to make was the decision to pack up my entire life in two suitcases and hop on a flight going halfway around the world, just for a piece of paper that might help me get a job later. But as an 18 year old, you move out the first chance you get.
A 20-hour flight later, here I was: the Great White North. Except there were Indians everywhere. Seriously.
The first month of university was probably the worst — I was constantly homesick and jetlagged. Even though I had physically left India, I’d left behind my heart and my internal clock. I remember not wanting to go out at all, choosing to constantly text my friends back home and burst into tears at even the slightest of provocations.
Needless to say, it was not fun. I thought I had messed up big time. I was already an introvert with social anxiety and a resting bitch face, how was I ever going to make friends?
Turns out bonding over homesickness and missing Indian food is a great way to get over a lot of initial awkwardness. Alcohol also helped, obviously. Not that I’d had any. I am not legal yet, obviously. And just like that the clock chimed, the birds chirped, the sky was painted a different colour — I was happy again.
I found a family, albeit a small one. But I also realized that family was not an empirical definition, or a box that you can fit into. I have so many families and I am going to find so many more. For me, family is a feeling — it’s love and comfort. Your family does not have to be genetically related to you, you choose your family. You choose who gets to know you and who you want to call when you’re drunk or even sober. You choose who you want to sit and watch another sunset or sunrise with. Family is evanescent and permanent.