After living for a few weeks in Delhi (and about a week in Rishikesh), when I arrived in Chennai, I had a lot of thoughts about what it means to “feel at home” or “make yourself at home” somewhere. I used to think that those phrases always implied creating comfort, but now, approaching two months in India, comfort seems a lot more complicated than ever before. I’ve moved around a lot. In my 20 years of life, I have lived in over a dozen different places, but not all of these spaces have felt like a home to me. While moving around in India, I’ve been trying to notice when and where I feel most at home– to try to figure out what allows me to feel that way.
In Delhi, Ahuja Residency became a temporary home. After intense, sweaty days of trekking around ancient ruins and running around the city, Caroline and I made sure our room was a space where we could be open and honest with how we were feeling and what our needs were. It was a space for self-care and free expression, free from the cultural and academic demands and expectations being put on us in our other surroundings. Being able to express myself without inhibitions, like in the confines of Caroline’s and my room, was pretty rare in Delhi.
Rishikesh had many more little homes for me. I felt at home along the river, while hiking, while wandering the streets of shops, in the cafes and guesthouses, in yoga class, making art, and chatting with new friends– all things I enjoy. I had never been to Rishikesh before, but the energy felt familiar and resonant with my emotional well-being. Although my week nestled in the mountains by the Ganges river was a special and nourishing time, part of me missed the challenges of Delhi– the crowded metro, the long days packed with history lessons and field-trips. How was it that I was feeling homesick for a place that, at the time of living there, didn’t feel comfortable like a home at all?
When I reflected on my time in Delhi, I realized I had felt strangely a home in situations that were challenging at the time. For example, in Chandni Chowk, even though it wasn’t the most comfortable space, I felt drawn to being there. Chandni Chowk is the old part of Delhi, consisting of long, narrow alley ways filled with shops selling everything from food and clothing to books and car parts. Even though it was an overwhelming area to navigate, I had so much fun exploring the streets, bargaining for trinkets, and observing the chaos of the crowd. It was like nothing I am used to navigating, but I felt in my element somehow.
When we arrived at Le Crescent Inn in Chennai, the space felt weird to me. I wasn’t stoked on the setup of the room that Caroline and I ended up in, but we got innovative and had fun re-doing the space. We turned our TV around, covered it with fabric, and put our special trinkets on top to make a shrine. We pushed our beds together and to the side of the room to create more floor space. We made a communal food shelf. These little things made us feel more comfortable in the space, made me feel at home. Chennai is a coastal city, and our hotel was walking distance from the sea, which was so lovely. Being by the ocean frequently made me feel at home, considering I’ve lived along the California coast for a good portion of my life. But how did I feel at home in the crowded, dirty, loud alley ways of Chandni Chowk? How can I find the feeling of home in places so different from eachother?
While in Chennai, our group experienced a lot of emotional turmoil. As we reached the midpoint of our time in India, a lot of people were feeling homesick and on edge about the program. We received troubling news about events back on the LC Campus, as well as the shooting in Oregon. Many of us were longing for loved-ones far away. A lot of us were feeling overwhelmed by the heaviness of the topics coming up in our lectures. From this discomfort though, blossomed a connection between us all, that may have not formed if everything was all butterflies and rainbows. We held group-check in’s to discuss our concerns and share support. We sent an email to our student government with our thoughts and suggestions surrounding the issues on Campus. We challenged each other to be open about our problems, and from that we truly grew. Although many of us never quite felt at home in Chennai, I know I felt much more at home in our group.
I’m starting to realize that my environment (who and what is around me) can greatly influence my comfortability, but the actual feeling of being at home does not require a certain physical standard of environment, or even any air of peace or comfort. It is a feeling of confidence, a confidence in knowing that I am right where I am meant to be. A confidence that I am accepted and belong in a space, whatever that space is. Home is a feeling and a mindset, and I have surprised myself with the circumstances I have grown to feel capable of accepting or navigating. Moving forward into Varanasi for the last portion of this program, I hope to cultivate this mindset of accepting a healthy amount of discomfort. Sometimes “making yourself at home” means diving into challenges, means growth by all means necessary.