People from my past.

I miss my friends - people I could talk to, people I cooked with, played video games with, discussed movies with, and went shopping with. Friends who shared my hobbies, and interests.

 Roby with his obsession love for international cinema, Pavan and Sai, who loved their gadgets and video games, Muddasir, who loved his gadgets and Bollywood, Nitin and his undying love for MMO shooters and RPGs (and Budweiser), Sriram, who I could discuss classic rock and music and technology with, Krishna, who was the token South Indian along with me, Avinash who took our constant ribbing, with a good natured smile, Parag, who was keen on photography and quality headphones, Sanjeev who made his famous "Tiger Rice", Sundar anna and Padma, who were the unofficial uncle-and-aunty for us PIGS, the all-round fun folk (and their spouses), Harish, Ananya, Nazia, Sagar, Pallavi, Shravani, Jincy, Aravind, Raghu, Mohit Paaji, the notorious Rakhi, the silent but very friendly Siyath..

I guess I could go on and list all the Indian friends from the 3+ years in Orono - at least the ones whose names I can recall. I miss them all so much - even the ones whose names I can't remember - the ones who I knew for just a few months too.

There were two colleagues/classmates from the university - Bingxin and Morvarid - two fellow sufferers who spent time with me in the Wireless Sensors Lab. I suppose I kinda became an unofficial honorary "little brown brother" to them :P

I miss Janice and Susan from the office at college - two of the friendliest people ever - always ready with a smile and a warm greeting whenever I saw them. Then, there was Dr. Musavi, the Department chair, who was a HUGE help during my grad school days. He got me my TA jobs when I was a mess financially, he wrote my letters of recommendation after I graduated - and helped reignite my love for neural networks. I wish I had kept in touch with him after I returned home, but me being.. well.. me, I lost touch with him. Maybe not for long. (Note to self : Mail Dr. Musavi). Also, there was Dr. Abedi, who was my advisor and teacher for a while. He guided me through my research, even when I was getting nowhere with my project work. He let me use his lab facilities even after I got kicked off his team, and helped me get through my coursework. I also miss seeing Sarah and Mireille's friendly smiles and helpful gestures whenever I was at the International Student Affairs office. I miss the friendly faces at the cafeteria - the employees who had learned to wave and smile at me whenever they saw the lonely brown kid approaching - specially the one whose name I forget - but whose cheerful smile I remember - The one who got a huge kick out of my innuendo-laden T-shirts I wore. Or the lady at the cafeteria who always added extra toppings to my pizza, and slipped me an extra cup of marinara sauce.

Then there was Paul - the friendly guy at the hairdressers at Bangor Mall.. He was friendly enough to slip me some samples of complimentary hair products - salon pomades and hair gels on occasion - he was the guy who knew instinctively how to style my hair - even without me asking beforehand.

It's ironic, really - I'm an introvert who loves spending time alone, away from people, by myself.
Yet, I often find myself missing these wonderful (and occasionally aggravating) people I spent time around. Among these are people I knew for a brief while - some who I had fleeting contacts with - yet, I find myself missing them so often lately. Mind you, I'm not prone to sentiments and yearning for people. But somehow, without these people, I feel lost and lonely. If I were to magically find myself in Orono right now (or wherever they are), I know what I'd be doing - Running around town renewing my acquaintances and catching up with these lovely folk.

I'm missing all y'all like crazy right now!

Second-Home sick

Dear Journal,

I am feeling homesick tonight.

Which is a bit ironic, as I'm typing this from my bed in the house I was born and raised in - a house I've lived in for 26 years of my life, with my family.

Yet, there's this haunting feeling of emptiness and longing for a "home" within me. Not that where I am right now isn't home (uh oh. Things are getting seriously messy when I start using double negatives, you say?) - It is. I *am* home. Yet, I'm still homesick, feeling incomplete and missing that sensation of familiarity and belonging to a place.

I miss my apartment in Orono. The three-bedroom apartment in Maine, 10 minutes from the University of Maine. I miss Orono with its glorious solitude and blessed calmness. Ironically, I hated the isolation and silence the first few months of my moving to Maine, back in 2006. Hailing from a busy, noisy and crowded metropolitan city, Maine was a huge shock - and Orono, a tiny peaceful college town, where the median age was around 22 years. Which, in simple turns, translated to a town full of, and centered around young adults.
As the average redneck saying goes, you couldn't swing a dead cat without hitting a (usually Caucasian) tweenage college student.

Having come from a predominantly (hell - almost exclusively) Indian society, with a lot of brown-skinned Indians speaking a variety of tongues, I suppose it's not an exaggeration to say Maine, with its abundance of geriatric Caucasian folk (and friendly ones too - which was something I wasn't expecting, to be honest), did give me a bit of a culture shock. Add to that the fact that among all the 15-odd Indians on campus, I was the only one speaking my language (my cousin's family lived in the next town, but that didn't count for the daily interactions), and my being your average introverted bookworm, things were rather.. um.. depressing for a while.

I hated Orono from the beginning. I missed the noise and crowds and the stores of the big cities. I hated that I couldn't see a lot of people or a lot of traffic on the streets. I missed seeing familiar faces or hearing familiar languages. I hated that I didn't have a lot of choices when it came to food, or entertainment, or shopping. I hated that I didn't have any old friends around, and that I had to make new friends from scratch (not an easy job for an introvert like me, I'll say). Luckily, the Indian friends (and roommates) were/are a very friendly bunch, and despite my initial reservations, became good friends. That's not to say I was an asocial dweeb in the desi community - My first few months in Orono, I never left my apartment except to go to the mall or the stores or college. I rarely visited the other Indian friends, and always avoided the regular Indian gatherings.

I honestly don't remember or understand why I avoided making new friends. I suppose I've always been that way. I hate crowds, and hate being the center of attention (ironic, considering my chosen profession). I am usually uncomfortable around new people, and easily tire around noise. So, it took a lot of convincing and goading by the friends, and after a long while, I ended up meeting all the desis on campus, and became an occasional member of the gang - unofficially christened the PIGS (Poor Indian Graduate Students). I don't remember who coined that nickname - I'm a proud PIG.

Whenever I think of Orono (and Maine), I go on these emotionally-exhausting nostalgia trips in my mind. I remember my favorite places (the rocks on the Stillwater river, behind the Stillwater Apartments.. the dock with the wooden bench, at the riverside campus parking lot by the Steam plant.. or my favorite seat by the windows in Fogler Library, across the street from the Memorial Union (It was a fantastic place for people watching, sitting in the comfortable couch, warm sunlight wafting through the window panes, even on the cold winter days), sitting in the Union, a plate of hot cheese sticks and a cup of tea in hand, watching the students.. Then, there was the darkroom at Carnegie Hall, where Prof. Grillo let me audit a film photography class - the almost zen-like experience I learned while learning to develop film. Another favorite place was the biking/ jogging trail that led from the campus to the University Housing area.

I miss all these spots - places I found a lot of comfort in - places I could go any time of the day (or sometimes at night), where I could just relax and lose myself. Beautiful places where my mind dropped all distress and angst - places where I could breathe - and smile. These were the places where I could forget all my worries for a while, where nothing else mattered, where I was content and at peace with the world - even if it was for a brief while.

I miss the occasional trips to Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park - Two of my all-time favorite places in the world. Gorgeous in the fall, and beautiful the rest of the year.

I miss Maine so much, it hurts.

A Haunting Dream.

Despite all distractions, I can't get last night's dream out of my mind.

In the dream, I was running along College Avenue (Orono, Maine), trying to catch up with my friend(s) (not sure which one(s)), who were driving in a car. I'm cheerful, and enjoying the trot, not really desperate to catch up.

College Avenue, running beside the University of Maine campus (where I studied), is a long and calm stretch of road, running beside the aptly-named Stillwater River, in Orono. This was my daily route to and fro to college, from my apartment - a 15- minute walk past the fraternity houses, the bushes and the uniquely shaped Alfond Arena. The short walk on the pavement lined with green grass and dandelions in spring and summer and mounds of dirty snow from the snowplows in winter.

In my dream, I remember it being Freshers' Orientation Week, with a lot of fresh-faced, excited freshmen milling about, and volunteers in UMaine blue handing out flyers and smiling at me as I run past them. I run past them, trying to catch up with the slowly moving car, but I lag farther and farther behind, exhaustion slowing me down. Then, I come across a booth with volunteers handing out UMaine buttons, and I stop, panting and catching my breath. I look inside the booth and I see buttons with the UMaine logo, Bananas the Bear (Our Mascot), and an assortment of rock band buttons, priced at a quarter each.

I rummage through my pockets, only to find them empty. I look at the booth and then again up the street, and the car is gone. I turn back towards the booth and it's gone too, and I'm not in Maine anymore. It's now muggy and I'm soaked in sweat. I'm back in Albacore Drive in Houston, the Pakistani-owned convenience store in the background, my place a couple of houses down the empty street. The streets are all empty, no traffic on the usually-busy road. It's silent - no cicadas even, and the humidity and silence weighs down heavily, like an oppressive and tangible blanket.

I get agitated and I run down the main road, passing the donut shop and the Korean restaurant (I read the sign - Myung Dong, and I smile at the innuendo and run by), passing empty passing lots and silent parks, the only noise being made by my formal loafers slapping against the concrete along the pavement. I keep looking back, hoping to flag down any bus, but they none appear. Eventually, I stop, panting and heaving, sweat pouring down my body.I bend over, hyperventilating, trying to catch my breath, when I hear a bus pull over beside me.

I look up and see a blue-white monstrosity - a clunky BMTC bus, and I'm on the streets of Bangalore. It's noisy, dusty and full of people. And I'm lost. I look around helplessly, trying to figure out where I am, but the people are all blank. Featureless faces, blank boards and nameplates. The buildings all look the same, and I can't make people's conversations out. Everything is drowned out in white noise and I start running again.

And then I wake up.

I suppose it doesn't take a trained psychologist to read into the symbolism of the dreams. And it doesn't take me a lot of introspection or psychoanalysis or Freudian theories to understand what my subconscious is trying to tell me.

I'm missing Maine and Orono in particular a whole lot today. I miss the solitude and silence, the relaxed lifestyle and closeness to nature I felt there. I miss old Bangalore with its greenery and sparse traffic. I don't think I'm a fan of what Bangalore has become - a noisy, overcrowded, dirty concrete jungle with too much chrome, cement and honking.