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Homesick in Heaven Shubhra Krishan Shubhra Krishan is a television and print journalist from India, now based in Colorado Springs. Steeped from head to toe in the love of the English word, she is always writing poems and stories in her head. Firmly, passionately believes that "it's the life in your years that matters, and not the years in your life..."

It started as a joke. Sitting in our New Delhi flat three years ago, a friend told us his friend had gone straight from Kanpur to Kentucky, thanks to an internet job. We were impressed-and inspired.

I made up my mind to surf the net diligently next day on, but I guess I wasn't motivated enough to wade against "No results matched your search" and "Internal server error". I gave up, and life went on.

But Someone up there was still surfing on our behalf, obviously.

One year ago, a job found us and we flew straight from Chandni Chowk to Colorado Springs.

I am here, and it is so beautiful. In Delhi, I would wake up to find at least one and sometimes all of the following:

No water

No lights

No maid

Here, I wake up to a stunning sunrise everyday. When the dawn casts its red glow on the Rocky mountains just outside my balcony, I close my eyes in reverence. I turn on the faucet and warm water gushes down my hands. I never have to worry that the lights will go out just when a contestant is pouring over the Half-million question. It is, no doubt, a good life.

And yet.

I am homesick.

I miss the very things I used to crib about. The power-cuts and the truant maids. The traffic jams and the water problems. I guess it is not so much these problems themselves that I miss: it's the pot-pourri of madness-chaos-fuss-mess-warmth-and-love they created that is missing here.

In India , there are people everywhere. In fact, everything that can move is on the roads-ants, autorickshaws, buses, scooters, cars, trucks, pedestrians, cycles, cows, dogs. If you smiled at a stranger on Janpath and said "Hi, Have a good day," he'd think you're either mental or from Mars. And yet, you don't need any of that politeness to feel connected.

In America, you walk into a Walmart, pick up your packages, pay your bill and walk out. In India, you stand way behind the tiny grocery-counter and yell-"Bhaiya, Besan dena!" I didn't enjoy it then. I long for it now.

In India, I could pull out my friend from the middle of a Board Meeting if I needed her to help wash my baby's bottom. Here, I have acquaintances and I know they will help, but I am hesitant to intrude on their time. For like me, they are their own washerwomen/ maidservants /cooks /drivers /postwomen and gardeners.

I could go on and on. When I sit in the amazing public library here, I tell myself for the thousandth time I am really fortunate to be here (In India, British Council Library had good books, but the good pages were all torn). Then I read about the scandalous defence scam in India and feel even more thankful I am out of there. But then there are times I miss India so much I pester my husband to shift to the tip of the Florida coast. "At least that way we'd be a few miles closer to India!" He thinks I'm mad.

Maybe I am. Or maybe I am just an impossibly insatiable soul who never can find happiness. But then I meet other Indians--and I realise I am not alone. They all love it here, but they all long for India.

Sometimes, when we get talking about it at potluck parties, we decide America would be heaven if our families (and friends...and maidservants) could also join us here. And India would be heaven if it had all the comforts of America. Until that happens, we continue to be restless or homesick in our hemispheres of heaven.

Are you an Asian in America or an Asian living in your own country? Do you identify with some of what I have said? I'd love to hear your thoughts on this.

Untill we connect again .....

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