She had waited for this since forever. It had been like a cover page for her big American dream. She was a simple Indian small town girl who had dreamed of making it big in the USA. Through all those years of aspiring and all those years of struggling, this had looked like a light at the end of the tunnel. And now, with a social security number and a job in the Land of Liberty, it was the last day of the best year of her life, 2014. She wrapped up work for the day as soon as she could. Having tucked her patients in, being glad she wasn't on a call-block working on new years, having stopped by CVS to buy that lip gloss she was out of, she couldn't stop being excited about her first long drive in her first bought car. It was gonna be a road trip with a girlfriend. To a party, she felt she totally deserved. It was 3 hours and 120 miles for the New Year's Eve party at New York City!
All decked up and fancy, she was joined by people she knew, and people they knew, who didn't really know each other. Did they seem to like each other? Oh well, it didn't matter. It was a Pier, with Indie music and a dance floor. And it came with munchies and spirits! It had been months since she had danced to a Bollywood number. Miles away from the hindi-land and hectic hours at her medicine internship, she had totally missed that particular joy. Sporting a new-year-tiara, she was all smiles while she greeted people, danced, made merry and awaited 2015.
But at the strike of midnight, when it was hugs and kisses all around her, she realized that she missed people. She sensed the feeling of being alone in a crowd. It was literally that. Her friends and family back home were done with the midnight celebration hours ago. They had called her then and said they missed her. She had her drunk-and-happy friends shouting "Happy New Year" in un-synchronized chorus over speaker phone and a tear had peeked from the corner of her eye. She missed them. She missed those celebrations and parties, those hugs and love. Almost every soul who loved her was in a different continent, a different time zone.
Right at that thought, her phone rang. It was her family wishing her New Year's at 'her' time. With all her heart, she embraced the fondness from across the miles. Just then did someone blatantly interrupt her conversation. "Phone calls aren't allowed here, talk to people in person", he said. "It's the eve and he's high on spirits!", she thought as she awed at his audacity. "Happy new year, could I borrow you for a dance?" said the starry eyed stranger. She couldn't help but smile and nod as he walked her to the floor. As moments passed and they made company, the overtly blunt guy seemed all chivalrous to her. What more, the tall-dark-handsome hailed from the favourite part of her second favourite city in the world! The place which she connected with, the place which had given her freedom, friends and frolic. No wonder the instant spark. No wonder the dance lasted long. No wonder the chatter was so much fun. Like the more the merrier, another person joined in the yapping, and then another. And before she knew it, company had turned into a group, which turned into a herd. They talked gibberish, danced drunk and laughed hysteric. She partied until her head spun and laughed until her belly hurt.
Calling it a night and bidding good byes, everyone retired to their abodes. Settled in the train, looking through the window into the darkness, she didn't feel home sick anymore! Atleast not for that moment. Ofcourse everything and everybody back home was, is and would remain special. They were her back bone and safety net. But she had just had fun like she would have if she was with her peeps. She was still smiling and that was good. She realized that it was by choice that she had moved countries and started on a new journey here. She had made her loved ones proud and the others envious. It was a chapter where she learnt state of art medicine, made friends from all over the world, drove on the right side of the road and paid taxes for the first time. Despite the long hours, annoying beepers and all the hardships that came with intern year, she had her share of blessings to count. She had her go-to-people who watched out for her, seniors who consoled her saying it would get better with time, and friends who whined about work over wine. Life was good at the the moment. And so would be the year.
At dawn, it was a fresh day to go to work. Her soul smiled and lips formed a curve as she reminisced the night before. Would they meet again?, she wondered. May be, or may be not. Would she want that? May be or may be not. Oh well, it was time to get into internship survival mode again. One foot in front of another, just get through the day.
And just as she pulled out of her driveway, her cell phone chimed. "Hello!", said a text from a 646 number.
Until Next time,
Chandana Shekar
P.S.: "A good story is always better than a dazzling piece of truth" - Diane Setterfield, The Thirteenth tale
All decked up and fancy, she was joined by people she knew, and people they knew, who didn't really know each other. Did they seem to like each other? Oh well, it didn't matter. It was a Pier, with Indie music and a dance floor. And it came with munchies and spirits! It had been months since she had danced to a Bollywood number. Miles away from the hindi-land and hectic hours at her medicine internship, she had totally missed that particular joy. Sporting a new-year-tiara, she was all smiles while she greeted people, danced, made merry and awaited 2015.
But at the strike of midnight, when it was hugs and kisses all around her, she realized that she missed people. She sensed the feeling of being alone in a crowd. It was literally that. Her friends and family back home were done with the midnight celebration hours ago. They had called her then and said they missed her. She had her drunk-and-happy friends shouting "Happy New Year" in un-synchronized chorus over speaker phone and a tear had peeked from the corner of her eye. She missed them. She missed those celebrations and parties, those hugs and love. Almost every soul who loved her was in a different continent, a different time zone.Right at that thought, her phone rang. It was her family wishing her New Year's at 'her' time. With all her heart, she embraced the fondness from across the miles. Just then did someone blatantly interrupt her conversation. "Phone calls aren't allowed here, talk to people in person", he said. "It's the eve and he's high on spirits!", she thought as she awed at his audacity. "Happy new year, could I borrow you for a dance?" said the starry eyed stranger. She couldn't help but smile and nod as he walked her to the floor. As moments passed and they made company, the overtly blunt guy seemed all chivalrous to her. What more, the tall-dark-handsome hailed from the favourite part of her second favourite city in the world! The place which she connected with, the place which had given her freedom, friends and frolic. No wonder the instant spark. No wonder the dance lasted long. No wonder the chatter was so much fun. Like the more the merrier, another person joined in the yapping, and then another. And before she knew it, company had turned into a group, which turned into a herd. They talked gibberish, danced drunk and laughed hysteric. She partied until her head spun and laughed until her belly hurt.
Calling it a night and bidding good byes, everyone retired to their abodes. Settled in the train, looking through the window into the darkness, she didn't feel home sick anymore! Atleast not for that moment. Ofcourse everything and everybody back home was, is and would remain special. They were her back bone and safety net. But she had just had fun like she would have if she was with her peeps. She was still smiling and that was good. She realized that it was by choice that she had moved countries and started on a new journey here. She had made her loved ones proud and the others envious. It was a chapter where she learnt state of art medicine, made friends from all over the world, drove on the right side of the road and paid taxes for the first time. Despite the long hours, annoying beepers and all the hardships that came with intern year, she had her share of blessings to count. She had her go-to-people who watched out for her, seniors who consoled her saying it would get better with time, and friends who whined about work over wine. Life was good at the the moment. And so would be the year.
At dawn, it was a fresh day to go to work. Her soul smiled and lips formed a curve as she reminisced the night before. Would they meet again?, she wondered. May be, or may be not. Would she want that? May be or may be not. Oh well, it was time to get into internship survival mode again. One foot in front of another, just get through the day.
And just as she pulled out of her driveway, her cell phone chimed. "Hello!", said a text from a 646 number.
Until Next time,
Chandana Shekar
P.S.: "A good story is always better than a dazzling piece of truth" - Diane Setterfield, The Thirteenth tale
I write. People write. They love to write. They might write simple or complex, but they write. But what makes them put imaginations and thoughts into words? How do pictures come down onto paper from some nook of the mind? How do people get time for all this amidst their busy schedule? Maybe that's what you call, 'Inspiration'.
