Here is a short rant on traveling and change. I have only known Chennai for 23 years of my life, I only know the familiar streets where I walked to school and stopped for some chaat. The recognizable faces of auto-wallas etched in memory, laughing and chatting at the street corners, the comfort of never getting lost or feeling lost. I think one of the most undermined torments of the modern world is that of being an international student.
What really makes it all worth it seems to be the correlation between the subject that we go this far to study and the shifting landscapes witnessed just by traveling for it. Urban design is beautiful and intricate, I happen to immediately travel back home after finals each semester and the jarring shift in context between countries, their transportation, the language, and the people is almost incomprehensible. Enduring 36 hours of travel with endless layovers, places one in a surreal, almost alien limbo. The spiritual awakening that comes from sleeping in one city and waking up in a completely different environment is truly fascinating. It prompts a profound reflection on just how small our lives really are.
Homesickness hit me just an hour into landing in the States, the roads and stop signs were different, an uncanny resemblance to all the movies I had grown up watching. It made me queasy, fear of the unknown. Why do we push ourselves to explore, to be curious, and to be away from all sense of comfort?
For me, it was Urban Design. Growing up in Thanjavur, a typical rural village surrounded by vernacular architecture as opposed to my teenage years in urban Chennai, really made me want to equip myself to provide for what the city lacked. Most of which seemed to be compassion that is rooted in economic digression. What troubled me deeply abroad was life outside the structured 9-5 routine of education: the transition from feeling lonely to being alone, the silent days where no words were spoken, a seemingly blissful yet hollow existence that left me feeling like a ghost of my former self in a country that once felt like home. I came to realize that my passion for travel and exploration was not as strong as I had initially believed. Instead of longing to see the Grand Canyon or Niagara Falls, I found myself yearning to return home at every opportunity, seeking the comfort of the familiar.
The change began when I realized that I now had two homes, not one, and definitely not none. The misconception and natural tendency to believe that you are now a worldly nomad with no fixed place to call home isn't entirely true. Despite the infinite struggles that seem to overwhelm and suffocate every day, there is a profound knowledge of being away from comfort. Pressure slowly became routine and responsibility, fear, and anxiety became independence, exploration and curiosity became confidence.
I began to move from that one seat in the airport after sitting for four hours, finding amusement in observing how the place operated. I had ample time to rethink, regret, and accept my myriad shortcomings, eventually finding a renewed sense of hope. The fleeting moments in the airport—people reuniting with loved ones, an elderly couple quietly judging another girl’s attire, the quick banter between siblings, and the awkward hugs before parting—all evoke a sense of a soon-to-be-lost time, with people clinging to familiarity. These moments keep us both sane and insane. It has never been about whether change is good or bad, but rather a universally acknowledged necessity. Our ability to cope with, endure, and tolerate change determines whether it is perceived as good or bad. It is the reaction, rather than the action, that we fear, and realizing this has been an eye-opener for me
I still do get homesick, but it is now a want more than a need.
Did you experience anything similar?
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