Of course, I knew there would be moments of reverse culture shocks. I tried to imagine what they would be, and prepare myself for them. I reminded myself of the loudness of Indian cities, with unabating construction noise, neighbours quarrelling or partying and traffic sounds. I laughed along when my German-y friends pointed out how poorly I would deal with the summer, seeing as I complained the loudest in the stifling German heat. I prepared myself for the lack of work life balance. But as I sit here writing this, with the Cricket World Cup Finals from the society’s public viewing blaring through the windows, I have to honestly admit that nothing could have prepared me for the actual shocks when they came. The first one was a few weeks after moving into my new apartment. I decided to check out the nearby gym, and cramped as it was, it would have to do. As I lay sweating and stretching on a yoga mat post workout, I became suddenly aware, from the corner of my eye, of a gang of 5-6
When I was a little kid, I used to drop a coin to the bottom of the swimming pool, then dive down 10ft to retrieve it. It was exhilarating, it was so quiet, and it was just me against the water. It scared my mum though, and she made it promise not to do it anymore. And I never have, until earlier this year when I decided to make the plunge and uproot my entire life, again, and move back to India. It was a move I’d been contemplating for a while, but it’s a scary one. India has changed in 9 years; my friends have moved away and everything runs on Paytm. Moving is always stressful, and this one just checked all the boxes. Administrative delays? Check. Uncertainty and insecurities? Done. Nasty landlord to deal with? We gotcha. I did have a few great friends who made everything better. I spent the last months before moving back home just recovering from what I can now see was extreme burnout. Turns out, trying to work part time to pay bills while starting 2 businesses in the middle of