The sixth year itch (and scratch)

Charting the road ahead

One can dismiss it as bookish but in the end it is essentially a numbers game. I have now completed 6 years in the United States of America.

I wonder what the transition point was but at a certain anniversary, counting up my years in the States was more disappointing than amusing. What did me in were my expectations that I had conjured in my younger days. I expected wooden floor homes and many lotuses. Sadly, 6yrs later I still type with my feet planted firmly on a carpeted floor while a front wheel drive car ticks over her engine outside.

So here are the numbers. I have lived in 2 states but visited over 20 odd states. I have owned two cars, but rented over 20 cars and tested countless others. Yet, I have yet to own ONE lotus. I have covered over 90000 miles in this vast country but most of them happened in the vicinity of Michigan. I spent one winter depressed survived the remaining five with sheer indifference. I made new friends but lost all the old ones am now losing the old new ones.

More I think of numbers, the more staggering these six years become. Perhaps it is best that I stick to the non tangibles. But that simply reminds me of the increase in the number of “Sorry” and “thank you” that I utter these days. I secretly hate the fact that I hesitate to call late or to ask friends for help. I am appalled at the fact that I am finding four-dollar coffee’s acceptable. And that I use a spoon to eat rice!

It hasn’t been all downtrodden. I will never forget the crispiness of fall. Nor the opportunities I got to travel to other countries under the guile of pseudo-American. I will never forget the people I have met here. I also like the lessons I have learned despite what transformations I had to go through to learn them. But America made me an independent adult, and that itself is remarkable.

This sixth year has been by far one of the dullest I have had in the US. The economy tanked in November and I sank a week later. Holding fort must have been thrilling in the 16th century but I can safely vouch for it to be disappointing in these times. I am not sure how much time I have left here, but this wakeup call must be taken seriously.

The seventh year itch has already begun. And amidst this incessant number crunching, I must return to the basics. After all, 6 years ago you had made a deal with yourself.

That America would always be about four wheels and a heart.