4 years of life abroad

*also the fourth year of fake laughing at the Rajesh koothrapally references

“I knew you would get away from here the first chance you got”, said my mom. She was trying really hard to push in a bag of dried grated coconut into my already full baggage.

I looked at her as if asking why?

“You know you always had this distant look in your eyes, I noticed it the moment I laid eyes on you. And with all the time you spend watching the rain and day dreaming it was kind of obvious that you were not so happy here”, she replied

She was absolutely right. If somebody were to write my biography one day, it would go something like this, between the ages of ten and twenty this girl was very proficient in endlessly watching TV and daydreaming. I was just unhappy, perhaps discontented is a better wordIt was not that life was bad, circumstances were actually pretty good, my family was closely knit, we always had enough money and I was never bullied, ever.  But it always was as if I was waiting for something to happen, you know, like I have to get somewhere far away for my life to actually begin.  Whatever was happening until then was only a prologue before the actual story began. So four years ago when an opportunity to study abroad turned up I was READY.

In retrospect, I can see why I was unhappy. I was a liberal caught in a conservative society, also the closely knit communal ways of life in our society was too much for my BPD and social phobia to handle. Mental  illness was an invention of the West and it had no place in our household.

Simply put, I couldn’t be myself without being made to feel guilty about it.

Last four years were probably the most challenging time of my life so far, but also the best. This city is where I broke down but this is also where I learned to stand up on my own again. After years of looking afar and dreaming, I have found a corner on this planet that I call home ❤

Munich at night ❤

Yesterday night I was going through my old journals and found what I wrote on my first day here. The situation was too good to be true that I was certain something bad was going to happen on the way.


I was waiting for the man with the clipboard to walk in on me any minute then. For the long twelve hours of flight, I was sitting on the edge of the seat clutching my passport as tightly as I could. I was certain that a stewardess would come midflight and tell me  that I won’t be allowed to enter the country because something was obviously wrong with my visa.

But nothing happened, there was nothing wrong with the ‘philanges’ even. The flight landed on time.

I was afraid to look outside. If they were going to deport me, it was better if I didn’t know what the city looked like, it might be harder to go back then.

I managed to get through the pleasantries at the passport control with my broken German.

I see you are from India. What are you going to study here? asked the officer

“Space sciences” I replied

“Cool, just like Rajesh Kutrapally! Welcome to Germany. Alles Gute” he stamped my passport and extended it to me

I lingered around half clutching the passport.  Is that it? Isn’t there something wrong with my documents? or perhaps a misplaced y or i somewhere in my passport? I wanted to ask, but obviously, I didn’t ask any of that, just stood there staring at him with a quizzical look.

“Nächste bitte “, the officer yelled at the person standing behind me. It was my cue to get the hell away from the counter.

So the impossible has finally happened. I am in my dream city now.

What now?



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