Title: The Travesty of Our Longing: An NRI's Search for Peace, Prosperity, and the Self
Post:
We left.
Some of us decades ago. Some more recently. All in search of something better — peace, growth, prosperity, freedom, fulfillment — and yes, sometimes, an escape.
We wore our ambitions like armor in foreign lands. We adapted. We succeeded. We wired money home. We flew in for weddings and rituals. We stayed for funerals. And then we left again.
But somewhere along the journey, something got displaced. Perhaps it was the Chitta — the deeper consciousness — that quietly withdrew into a corner as our Buddhi (intellect) ran the marathons of career, visa renewals, mortgages, and aging parents.
As one of us said, in jest and in truth:
“Buddhi jaga to Chitta soya.”
When the intellect awakens, the inner being falls asleep.
And how true that rings for many of us NRIs and OCIs.
We are a people in motion — geopolitically dislocated, emotionally fragmented, and spiritually fatigued.
The Brain Marathon
A friend asked casually if I had enjoyed my morning walk.
I replied, “No morning walk, only brain marathon.”
Because that’s what our mornings have become. Thinking — sometimes obsessing — over jobs, politics, family breakdowns, identity struggles, return plans, retirement homes, property disputes, children’s futures, and the quiet panic of "What next?"
The luxury of a sunrise stroll is often overtaken by a restless scroll of WhatsApp threads, LinkedIn alerts, and yet another headline reminding us we don’t belong entirely here or there.
Between Lungi and Lurgi
Another quip in the chat:
“Dimag... Mannesmann dimag. Lungi... Mannesmann Lurgi.”
It’s gibberish at first glance. But also profound.
It’s the absurd fusion of our technical selves (engineers, analysts, doctors, consultants) with our cultural selves (lungi-wearing, monsoon-watching, rasam-drinking, folk-listening beings). We live with this duality daily — proud of our Mannesmann steel credentials but yearning for lungi-weather simplicity. We’re cosmopolitan and confused.
Moha and Moksha
And in one poetic line, the real heart of our dilemma is exposed:
“Man re tu kahe na dheer dhare, tu to mohi, moha me hi duba rahe, kisaki bhakti kare!”
O mind, why don’t you stay still? You're drenched in delusion and desires — what can you truly be devoted to?
This is the NRI’s travesty.
We achieved what we sought — money, prestige, opportunities. But we forgot to ask: At what cost?
We lost rhythm with our inner song. We wake up in cities that work but don’t sing. We sit in homes filled with appliances but emptied of elders. We’re torn between two timelines — one we live, and one we long for.
Full Circle or Spiral?
Now, as many of us hit midlife, or contemplate retirement, or simply burn out, we wonder if it's time to return.
To India? To our roots?
But it’s not that simple. India has changed. We have changed. The homes we left are not the homes we return to. And yet, somewhere deep within, a whisper persists:
“Go back. Not to the land — but to the self.”
What Next?
So what does this mean?
Do we uproot again?
Do we find new ways to root — in community, in nature, in purpose?
Do we start walking again — this time not to burn calories, but to burn illusions?
Whatever we choose, we must no longer chase prosperity without peace, or growth without grounding.
The journey from moha (delusion) to moksha (liberation) isn’t geographical. It’s internal.
And it begins not with a plane ticket — but with a pause.
End Note:
To all my fellow NRIs, OCIs, and wandering souls — may we find stillness between brain marathons, and courage to listen when the Chitta speaks again.
No comments:
Post a Comment