My Big White Book

As a child, I can't quite put my finger on when and where these memories come from, but my brother and I had this book with pictures of cars, fire trucks and planes in it. It was a big white book. And I distinctly remember this one picture of a fire truck with two little Dalmatians sitting in the fireman's boots. Another picture in that book was that of a PanAm airplane. We used to dream about flying in it one day. And not too long after that, we did. We visited our family in the States. He was 11 and I was 7. We had a blast, though I have very fragmented memories of that trip, the photographs from that trip do bring back great memories.

When we were kids, we used to dream about flying on a big plane, that would take us away to some place that we knew nothing off except that our Aunt lived there. It was so innocent, that wish of going away to that far away place. We knew nothing about passports, visas, plane tickets, jet lag, international borders, the yellow embarkation line at the airport. None of that made any sense to us. We just wanted to get on the big plane and fly.

Between 1988 and 2003, I hadn't left India and in those 15 years, I grew up, made some great friends, had many experiences good and bad, and in August of 2003, I embarked on another great adventure. I came here to Canada. Its been "just" a year and half (maybe less) since I've left India to come here to Canada. In the time that I've been away I have learnt to love what I've left behind even more. My parents, my brother, my friends.

I miss home terribly. But, I know that I am here for a reason...I am here to achieve something. And at the same time, I have a new big white book. Only this time, it doesn't have pictures of fire trucks, dalmatians, planes and cars. It's got memories, memories of home. Memories of my parents, my brother (and our petty fights), my friends (hanging out with them at home, at the university, at the record store, at the local pub, at the bench.) I flip through the pages of this new white book, and I long to go home, even if for a short while and just return to innocence for a few days, for a few precious days. And if I wish and hope hard enough, I know I will be there soon.

I miss you.

"Alone in these strange streets
I think that I've walked them enough
Poetry and Aeroplanes
I am tired of waiting for love"