Searching For Home In The World
Going abroad for studies, I found myself, I found home.
Arriving in Manhattan at age twenty to study at School of Visual Arts, I was confronted with questions about identity, race, religion, and sexuality like I had never been before. Suddenly I was removed from the safety net of familial surroundings and familiar locales. One long flight abroad had turned my world upside down and shaken my grounding. A few seconds in America, and I was beginning to question my self; I was beginning to become me.
Those early days went by in what seemed like twenty minutes. I was young, filled with hope and aspirations, bursting with energy, hungry for discovery, madly in love, and eager to study. But being twenty is a double-edged sword. Success depends on what one does with that youthful, boundless energy and powerful feeling of invincibility. Even before I had disembarked or gotten my passport stamped, I was dreaming up scenarios, planning next moves, and envisioning career-changing moments I wished to realize through study and work.
And then, suddenly, I was confronted by questions, comments, and challenges that made me think in a way I never had to before. During my childhood and youth in New Delhi, I was who I was, and that was just the way it was. I never encountered questions about the who, what, where, and how of my life.
Who do you think you are; who are you really? What language(s) do you speak; what food do you eat? Where are you from; where do you think you are going, and how do you plan to get there? Who is your God; how will you live your life? Who, what, where, and how—seemed for a while to be all that I was about.
Identity is nothing if not everything. How we perceive ourselves, who we feel we are, how we identify sexually and who we choose to love and share ourselves with are just a few of the many pieces of life that impact our identity. There is also personality, character, and individuality. Our personality gives us that foil through which people see what we choose to show of ourselves. We can portray a kind and generous self, or a selfish one, but in our selfhood and how we share it, we reveal the essence of our personality. Character is what stands us in good stead through the entire arch of our existence. Individuality defines us, but not always for the better. Individualism can break us into other isms that question the character of our individuality.
New York taught me to be tough. It awakened inside me that part of my being that until then had remained in my depths. Suvir was who I was in Delhi. Suvir Saran was what Manhattan was trying to make me. Human I was, but a deeply Christian nation, America, made me proudly Hindu, even if atheist when asked, so as to not be aligned with the fascist fanatic followers of a younger religion. Gay, yes, but did I need to be wearing my sexuality on my sleeve? In finding the answer I found love, and the ups and downs of that too. Left or Right? I found the middle my comfort zone, the Right deeply vexing, and the Left most puzzling. New York taught me to hold my ground as a centered human, civil society being my high. Acceptance of everyone, respect for the other, and room for all opinions remain my treasured values.
Breathing Free In Concrete Jungles
Our farmhouse, located just four hours north of Manhattan and nestled in the valley between the Green Mountains of Vermont and the Adirondacks of New York, was where I went with hopes of finding Utopia, and for rejuvenating oxygen. What I discovered was a rugged land, and people more rugged still in their collective experiences and education. My eyes were opened to bigotry, misogyny, bullying, and poverty. A poverty not just of finances, but also of love and acceptance. These people were lost to time and lost in time, left behind by fellow citizens of the world’s richest nation. Left behind, without access to twenty-first-century sundries like sound education, high-speed internet, quality healthcare, abortion clinics, a living wage, and respect from fellow countrymen.
It didn’t take long for the small world outside the boundaries of our farm to choke my being with the inequality and hate that was polluting the thin air. And so I created on the farmstead a home for the two- and four-legged creatures that I could house there with quality of life. For me it was a getaway to be with them, with Charlie, and a place I came to for appreciating all that I had been blessed with. But it was not home.
In America, Manhattan is home. Where I could breathe, and breathe deeply.
Old Home, New Home
Twenty-seven years after landing in NYC, after having discovered myself, my calling, my identity—my life was once again turned upside down, my grounding again shaken. I returned to New Delhi, my eyes wet, my mind clouded with questioning, my heart throbbing erratically, my body broken, my soul quivering, and my identity in crisis.
One year later, I still struggle to know where the GPS points to my identity’s home. Is it Delhi, the home that accepts me, embraces me, and nurtures me back to health? Or is it Manhattan, the home that challenges me every minute of every day to parse and define myself?
For now, home for me is where I sleep at night. It is Manhattan when I am there, and New Delhi when here. My heart has found its home on both sides of the world where I can breathe deeply of inclusive, welcoming oxygen.
Pindi’s Butter Chicken
This recipe, a favorite of many Delhiites, is from Pindi on Pandara Road. First created and served in 1948 when Pindi opened its doors, it has been synonymous with the restaurants and its legacy since. Pulkit Wadhwa, the third-generation owner is supporting the chefs, many of whom have worked longer than his years on this earth, in honing their skills making this dish, and giving his patrons memorably delicious meals daily. Make this at home or find a table at Pindi and order it with assured glee.
750 grams, Chicken (bone-in or boneless)
1 tablespoon, Lemon juice
¼ teaspoon, Salt
1 ½ teaspoon, Red Chilly Powder
1 ¼ teaspoon, Kasuri Methi
Pinch of turmeric
1 ½ teaspoon, garam masala
2 tablespoons, Ginger and Garlic Paste
200 grams, Hung Yoghurt
100 grams, Butter
1 stick, Cinnamon
2 Cardamom pods
2 Cloves
8 tomatoes, finely minced
100 grams, Cashew Nuts and Melon Seeds (chaar magaz)
40 grams, cream
Butter chicken is cooked in two steps.
Marinate chicken in lemon juice, salt and red chilly for an hour. Add ginger-garlic paste, garam masala, turmeric and kasuri methi, rest for an hour. Then half-cook in a tandoor or oven.
Prepare a thick gravy with tomatoes, cashew nuts and melon seed paste. Add ginger & garlic paste, red chilly, salt, fenugreek powder, garam masala. Add butter, cream, milk, and ghee to the gravy and cook. Add chicken to this gravy and cook till the chicken absorbs the flavor and is cooked through. To add a smoky flavor to the butter chicken, prepare a dungar (burnt coal topped with Desi Ghee and whole spices) and place it into the gravy and seal the utensil so the fats absorb the smoky flavors.
Finish the dish with cream, desi ghee, butter and garnish with coriander leaves.
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