Ten years ago today on October 18, 2010 I was preparing to leave Montreal to follow through on my childhood dream at the age of 34. That dream was to live in India.

My plans were met with disapproval from my mother and some relatives. In what they thought was in my best interest, they attempted to discourage me. At 34 I shouldn’t be gallivanting on the other side of the world, but rather focusing on work and looking to get married and settle down.

I had visited India four times before. This longing to live there started after my second visit when I was 11. I couldn’t shake off the internal pull Eastwards. Nothing was going to stop me. It was now or never.

I lost two of my friends in 2009 in a span of 3 weeks. Pia 34, died from cancer and Yasir 32, died in a motorcycle accident. I was devastated. Shortly after, when my boss (in the Tax division of Wealth Management where I worked for a little over 2 years out of the 8 years I worked at the bank) called me into his office to break it to me that budget cuts were taking place and my position was being dissolved, I simply shrugged and said, “okay.” He informed me that I could take some time to make a decision and look into transferring to another department or Toronto or take a severance package. I thought to myself, it’s just a job. A job is replaceable. My friends were never coming back. They were young. Then I thought who knows how long I’ll live. I immediately asked for the severance package and started contemplating booking a one way ticket to India as I walked out of his office.

I gave myself a year to plan, as my sister’s wedding was coming up in May 2010. While I was still grieving, I lived it up. I was having one of the best summers of my life in Montreal, which I refer to as the “Summer of Shalini”. I applied for my OCI, Overseas Citizenship of India, which is like a green card or permanent resident status. I called every few days for updates and got the documents in record time, one month. Anyone dealing with the Indian Embassy knows you have to be on top of them. I was also lucky, I had a very nice and helpful lady on the other end.

While some family friends, Uncle Himat and Aunty Blanche encouraged me to embark on my trip. I was still being met with resistance by my mother.

My whole life had revolved around my mom. I was her right hand. I protected her from my father and pretty much anyone. My mother’s friends referred to me as “the man of the house.” My parents were separated at this time, it was not the first time they split, they had separated many times while we grew up. Even though I had moved out on my own, living downtown, she still had a hold on me, because she needed me. My siblings being younger were oblivious to the things I handled as the eldest and I often put everyone else’s needs before my own. I was my mother’s sole support system and punching bag. It was time for me to do what I wanted. My stubbornness kicked in, I tied up loose ends, sublet my apartment and I packed up my bags and left Canada. I told my mother, “I’ve already taken care of one family, I don’t have the energy to take care of another one right now. Just give me a few months to myself and then maybe when I return I’ll consider getting married.”

I had no intention of getting married, not after living through the nightmare of a marriage my parents had. But I had every intention of living my best life. I had one of the most awesome and turbulent experiences of my life in India.

The airlines didn’t issue one way tickets to India, I had to select a return date of 6 months max, with the option to extend for a year. As the return date was approaching in April 2011, my mother called me to find out my flight details. I told her I wasn’t ready to come back. I wasn’t done, I wanted more time in India. There was yelling on the other end of the phone, I was told if I didn’t come back home by the return date, that I was not going to be allowed back in the house. I kept extending my flight for an extra month, every month for the next 3 months. I eventually let go of the lease to my apartment in Montreal.

My ticket expired and I didn’t return home to Montreal until May 2012. I was gone for a total of 20 months. In that time I travelled either by myself or with friends to various parts of Northern India; Delhi, Dehradun, Mussoorie, Rishikesh, Haridwar, Pinjore, Chandigarh, Shimla, Amritsar, Wagah Border, Banaras, Gorakhpur, Lucknow, Jodhpur, Udaipur. Volunteered at a women’s shelter. One month living in a hut on a beach in South Goa with my Mallu & Punjabi friends from Montreal. Did some freelance work as a project manager for an events company. Rented a flat for 6 months for myself in Bandra (Mumbai), roomed with friends for 4 months in Delhi. In between all these adventures, always making my way back to Vasai-Virar to see my Aaji (grandmother in Marathi) & family. Oh yes and a 7 week backpack trip with my Quebecois friend from Montreal through Malaysia & Thailand, where I sort of crashed a four day wedding. I’ll have to write another piece or two about the adventures and trials of an unmarried thirty-something Indo-Canadian in the motherland.

Granted I finished most of my savings, however it goes without saying It was one of the best decisions I ever made. I got to build stronger relationships with my cousins and met lovely people from other parts of India and all over the world who are close to my heart. ⁣The immigrant experience of having my heart in two places resonates more than ever. I love the land my parents were born in, just as much as the one they immigrated to, where I was born and raised.

Losing my job was a blessing in disguise. I probably would have never set out to fulfill a lifelong dream otherwise. My loss of loved ones gave me the perspective that a job wasn’t my be all end all. Three of the worst things that happened to me in 2009, set me on a path to fulfill me.⁣⁣ And it was near the end of this adventure that I made a new friend named Anand Almeida.

Today in my 40s, while I am steadfast in keeping my vow to not let my husband Anand’s death be in vain by advocating for Mental Health Awareness and Suicide Prevention. I made another vow in the same week that he died, a vow to myself. That with more years behind me than ahead of me, I would continue to live my best life.

The catalyst to take life by the horns and live fully, authentically and with gratitude, always seems to be death or some form of loss.

“Your heart is free. Have the courage to follow it.” -Malcolm Wallace (Braveheart)

 

“All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes, a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.”
– J.R.R. Tolkien