Nomadic childhood

A by-product of a nomadic childhood is that you never have one specific “home”. Although we visited kerala every year during vacations and eventually even returned to settle down there, I never really saw it as MY home. It was home in the sense that there was family there, but I do not have any other sentimental attachment to that place. I recently read a piece by Pico Iyer about this strange phenomenon of being equally unfamiliar at all places. And I thought that it really applied to me, this feeling of never letting yourself call one place home, yet feeling comfortable in each place you visit because you know you don’t feel the burden to make it your home. You never root yourself fully anywhere, so you can pick up and leave anytime without leaving anything behind. This has been my case wherever I’ve lived. I mourn the people I left behind, but the place just becomes a fond memory I can revisit once In a while.

The only exception to this strange predilection has been Malaysia. As a naive 18 year old, completely unhinged from reality, I set foot on this land and felt it in my bones that this, this lush land of perfect skies and warm people, is home. Or the closest to a home I will ever have. On the first day of university, as I watched my parents drive away leaving me behind, I felt slightly sad but never alone. This place had already embraced me and coaxed me to root myself there.

As cliched as it sounds, Malaysia was the place I found myself. It offered me a space to grow, to explore, and form friendships so strong, so deep that they have endured time and distance. Most important of all, this is where I reconnected with my faith. And for this alone, I am forever indebted to this place.

Before Malaysia, I would not have thought it possible to feel at home at a place where you have no family, and that too with a people you do not share the same tongue. But it is. So possible that when it was finally time to leave, my heart ached for this home I was leaving behind as much as I mourned the people. I cried then and for days afterwards, for that little piece of me that I’d left behind and probably would never recover. How strange to have your sentiments tied to a geographical place…I don’t think I will ever retrieve myself fully from there.