I’m not an extrovert. Big groups make me uncomfortable. I don’t make friends very quickly, I can’t. But it didn’t seem like a disadvantage in Leeds. Or maybe I’ve changed, a little bit. I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I had to share a flat with absolute strangers. Family-less in a foreign land, you start to look for family-ness in the people around you. It’s not easy to live with people. Even with your friends, for that matter. You can get on each other’s nerves after a point. Living together is very, very different from spending time together. Which is why I was thrilled to have people like Gee and Abeer as my flatmates. Even though the three of us were completely different from each other (e.g., Abeer- Civil Engineering student, Gee- International Finance student, me- English Literature student) we got along like a house on fire.
It took me a few days to realize that Ma wasn’t going to bring me a cup of chai the moment I woke up. There wasn’t going to be a plate of hot buttered dosas with steaming sambaar and cold chutney, or upma with sliced bananas or Bombay toast or any of the twenty different breakfasty things she or Veremummy used to make, waiting for me at the dining table while I got geared up for the day. Neither was there going to be a hot lunch (rice, a gravy, fish and something else, usually) all ready for me when I got back home, tired after classes. Nobody to say, It’s-okay-I’ll-do-the-dishes-you-don’t-bother. Oh yes, I took full advantage of my spoilt-only-child-of-doting-parents-and-even-more-doting-grandparents status. Leeds changed all that. Completely.
I'm never going to say, Ma, why did you make this dish again? We just had it day before yesterday, for god's sake ever again.
For the next few months, it was Gee (pouring milk into her bowl of oats or mixing sugar in her coffee) that I saw first thing in the morning as I stumbled into the kitchen rubbing the sleep from my eyes. She would tell me her plans for the day while I toasted bread or fried an egg. (When she didn’t have classes, Abeer would have breakfast at lunchtime).
Abeer was my grocery-shopping partner. We would always come back with more stuff than what we’d planned to buy, our arms aching from the load. We’d make it a point to spend at least fifteen minutes gazing at the dessert section longingly, and another fifteen arguing over which cake, pie or mousse looked more sinful and therefore, was going to come home with us. The dessert would usually be consumed while watching a movie in her room.
I’ve lost track of the number of people I’ve had so many good conversations with in the past year- friends of flatmates, classmates, coursemates, flatmates of friends, building-mates, random people at the bank and other random places…
I don’t remember having too many lonely moments.
I regret not having spent more time with so many people, not making time for them. I wish I could spend more time with the people I’ve already spent a lot of time with. Sometimes, I wish I could go back to the place where Gee and Abeer were only a knock away, and I could see Abha’s room from my window.
I can’t condense all the experiences I’ve had here in a blog post. I want to, though. I want to name every person who’s found their way into my circle of friends. I want to pick out all the moments (consequential or otherwise) I’ve had with those people, with myself in the past year, and put them on a mantelpiece. The camera did its best, but the pictures don't do justice. Sadly, my words don't either.
