So many questions

As I was leaving India, a friend came to say goodbye to me, thrusted me with an orange envelope, and strictly warned me to open it only once I am in London. Days after I landed and my head was less swirly, I opened it — and it was even more special than I had imagined. She had infused every little piece of her soul in 10 hand-made mini cards, each representing a different month from March to December, and each one prompting me with a different question about my new adventure — from how I am feeling to what I am buying to what I am missing. With her perceptiveness and care, she had managed to capture the seasons of my mood here accurately — the ascents and the descents, the digressions, and the daydreaming.

Her thoughtfulness touched my heart and her questions made me think even more deeply about my time here.?

MARCH: To new beginnings Hope you’ve settled into your temp apartment. On a day you feel overwhelmed, spot three things outside your window you like.

JUNE: Joy of a new month?What colour is the city wearing??What books are you reading??Have any funny stories to share??What made you smile??

There are days when I lean into the discomfort of the restlessness, the not-knowing of the answers, the overwhelm — and the worst of all, the million dollar question that characterises all impending doom of humanity: “What’s next?” Getting things done from an endless checklist is truly the modern-day epidemic is what I have come to realise. I sometimes demand myself with equal measure to buy new glassware for my imaginary dinner parties and to go out and find neighbourhood friends, all with equal haste; I demand myself to build an appropriate wardrobe for an East Londoner, and learn everything about garbage disposal all at the same time (too many different bins and too many different bags! I am sorry Hackney Council for getting this so wrong!). I enter a fresh existential crisis each time I make my way to the garbage disposal room in my building; I look at the household waste bins, the recycling bins, and the food waste bins, the little icons drawn on each of then, and then at my garbage bags, several times, knowing I have got it wrong. Much like how I look at myself in the mirror, and then at my surroundings wondering if I have got this right, if I am really here living the life I am supposed to be living, what is the meaning of all this, and am I going to wake up from my positivity slumber and realise what a fool I have been all along.?

Living by yourself in a new place leaves you with a sense of disembodiment. And I absolutely love?the word ‘disembodiment’, which means ethereal, bodiless, lacking in substance or any firm relation to reality.?

Living in a new place builds a fresh consciousness. You can start over or add on to your present existence. You can do what you like. This is the real-life version of a 24-hour ephemeral reel video that will imminently disappear into a never never land before you know it.?

But I digress. Because this isn’t exactly true. Much like how I have been demanding myself to ‘get on with it’, I have been demanding myself to feel this way, because I have been told by many that this is what it will feel like, and that it will be liberating. But life doesn’t work like a TV show (Severance, if you have watched it) where you can spatially sever memories of the life you once had.?

So in July, I came to terms with the fact that I was severely homesick. I missed the warmth of familiarity, of being surrounded by people you know deeply, who are often going through all the same existential crises as you — but being able to have a big laugh about it. I have spent much of the last few weeks finding that sense of warmth here in London, and it’s been working!??

Do things that you know will feel good

Life is unpredictable and ever-changing and that’s why it’s imperative to have 1-2 things you can do that are reliable and consistent in the way that they make you feel. Tennis, for me, has been one such activity where I can drop every burden and be on that court for 60 minutes with a pure sense of joy. After months of passing by the beautiful public courts in Hackney, I downloaded ‘RacketPal’, an app to find a ‘pal’ to play any racket sport with - tennis, table tennis, squash, badminton, and padel. I met a few new people, realised I had lost my edge in the 4-month gap, and slept a sweet sleep after two exhausting night games. Exactly what I was looking for!

Finding warmth at the bottom of a bowl

When I say I miss home, I mean I miss the feverish excitement with which we eat food in India and share experiences around our favourite dishes. A lot of the sense of camaraderie comes from ‘grabbing that quick street snack’; the complex flavours release a number of endorphins and dopamine to give you heightened pleasure - and the by-product is a bonding experience like no other. So I have been lucky to find myself enjoying some great food with colleagues and friends visiting London, and feeling close to home. Dishoom for Indian food never disappoints; Hoppers for Sri Lankan food is exactly the alternative an Indian foodie is looking for; Andina London for Peruvian food on Commercial Street is deceptively simple-looking food that is as exciting and complex; and Koya Ko Hackney at Broadway Market is a human hug in ramen form — warm, soupy, delicious.

Music, music, music

Music is my definitive escape, my support system, the fuel for my imagination, and my partner in crime. I experience my entire life through music. It helps me make cerebral connections, it unlocks things in my brain, makes sense of complexities, and makes me realise that ‘this’ is where my centre of gravity lies because it makes me feel whole even when I am coming undone at the seams. And the warmest feeling is enjoying music with others who like it as much as you do. Last weekend I was lucky to have friends visit me in London and we went for two music gigs at Finsbury Park, techno artists that were on our must-see-soon list! The music was fabulous, dancing with abandon was a massive release but best of all was exchanging that knowing look that two people who love music share — when the drop is about to come, when they can hear all the different layers in the music just the way you can, and can equally appreciate the progression and dexterity with which a set is played. In essence you belong to the same conscious plane as them — and that glance, side look, a half turn, a smile are lightyears of warmth in a millisecond.?

My friend's gratitude prompts are helping me stay buoyant, but if you are an expat in London, I would love to know how you create a sense of home in a new country. Give me your tips!