Sometimes, lack of choice can be good

It hasn’t even been two full years since we moved back to India. But to me, it seems like I’ve been living here for a lifetime. I do miss my old life in the US, I miss the home we had, I miss the people there, but I am happy here. More than happy. I remember writing this post one night after dinner, after I had just finished talking to my parents. I remember looking at our home in the Bay Area lovingly, and wondering how I would ever find the courage to take the plunge and move back home.

It all seemed so uncertain back then. Beside, life in India did not guarantee happiness. I wanted to move back here to live close to my parents – in the same city. I wasn’t sure we would have an opportunity to do that. I wasn’t sure if the work culture here would allow us quality time with the family. Thankfully, things fell in place for me in the most perfect way ever. I live close to my parents, in my city. Both Mint and I have very flexible and balanced jobs that give us more than enough time to pursue other things and enjoy some quality time together. I cling on to my life in this country.

The problem though, has always been the same. Mint does not want to live in India. He agreed to move back to homeland because I wanted to.I still consider that to be the biggest sacrifice he has made for me. We decided to try living in India for about 3 years. If he absolutely hated it, we would move back to the US. Does he hate it in India? No. He has a good life here. Does he still want to move back? Yes. Because he thinks this country is killing us. The air we breathe, the water we drink, the food we eat here, it is killing us. And if we are undergoing a slow death, the good and happy life we have here does not matter much.

The fact that Mint works in the same company now as he did in the US does not help. His managers are all based in California. They will be very happy if he agrees to move back there. They keep asking him every now and then, if he is interested in moving back. As a result, Mint keeps popping the question to me. “Shall we move back?”, he asks me this every few days. I pause for a minute, and then shake my head and say no. I love it here. Does not matter to me if I am dying. He does not get this. He tries reasoning with me in every possible way. When I argue, he pulls out his trump card. He reminds me of the fact that I want to have kids someday. “Do you want to subject them to this environment? Do you want them to breathe this air that is killing us?”

What am I supposed to say to that? Please tell me. I tell him there are a million people choosing to have kids in India, it does not mean they want to subject their kids to any harm. He tells me that majority of those million people do not have a choice. Whereas we do. So I will actually be choosing not just for my own self, but I will be choosing this deathly surrounding for them too. He knows how to trap me in my own guilt. He even goes on to the extent of saying he would never want to bring up his daughter in this patriarchal country. He will want to move out of here, especially if we have a girl.

What about all the love that our kids will miss out on if they aren’t living close to grandparents and family? What about our aging parents? Should we forget all of that. He says we can work out a solution for all of that. I don’t see how that is possible, but I let go. Because our arguments in this matter are unending. 

It is tough, living on opposite ends of the spectrum. Ofcourse, the corruption, pollution, attitude and apathy of this country is unnerving for me too. It makes it even harder for me to endure it, because I can’t vent to Mint. If if do, he has a ready response. Each time the traffic makes me snap, the pollution makes me choke, the outrageous attitude of our countrymen makes me see red, Mint tells me the same thing – “Well, you’ve chosen this, so don’t complain”. I have chosen this, yes. I hate this surrounding, but I still love my life with my people here. It would help if I had the opportunity to release my frustrations without being shut up with his standard remark. But then I have learnt to live with it.

The more I think about it, the more I realise how much happier I would have been without this choice. We would just be like the scores of Indians, complaining about the system, abusing it and then moving on. But this available choice, it forces me to pick a stand. It forces me to not complain, because well, I chose it. It forces me to choose responsibly. It forces me to face the consequences of my choice. It forces me to evaluate my choice.  None of which is pleasant. So I will deal with it all another day. For now, I will go back to my happy life and forget all about this burden of choice.