The First 30 Minutes 3.0

Almost 8 months ago, I wrote with a question. How much can you learn about a place in the first 30 minutes after waking? The answer when I first asked that question was a lot. But today, when I forgot to buy eggs, it felt almost nostalgic.

As I prepare to leave my apartment for what will almost certainly be the last time, I have realized how familiar I have grown to this place, and the people in and around it. I want to thank them for making the City of Dreams (New Delhi) that at times felt closer to nightmares, feel a little more like home.

This morning when I woke up at 7:00 am to the doorbell. I felt thankful to know that Sushma was here, even though I knew she would soon come into my room and ask me what I wanted to eat for the day. Even though I knew I would have to groggily piece together words when the thought of speaking, especially in a language that is still new to me, seemed

impossible.

When I left the house to go buy eggs, the air felt like fall again. It reminded me of when I first moved into the apartment when everything was new. This time though, as I walked down the street to buy eggs for the last time, I knew that it was time for the children to walk to school. I knew that I had to insert myself into the line of men outside of the little shop. I knew that the grumpy Sardar (what my housemates and I call the shopkeeper) would scowl at me. I knew the dogs would curiously follow me until they became preoccupied.

It felt like in no time at all what felt so unfamiliar to me became incredibly ordinary. When I walked up the stairs I brought Sushma the eggs while she ridiculed me for asking for dal chavaal for the last time.

When I finished my coffee, I brought my cup into the kitchen where she offered me some tea. We stood facing one another while we sipped slowly and chatted about her trip home, and what I had been doing while she was away.

Then I told her I was leaving tomorrow, very early in the morning. Her face fell as she replied something along the lines of "As soon as I come back, you leave."

I felt my bottom lip start to tremble. I pulled the cup to my mouth to try to hide the deep sadness I felt as I thought about leaving. I turned my back and pretended to look in the hall, while I wiped the first tears that fell from my eyes.

When I turned back, she muttered: “Aap theek hai?” (Are you okay?)

My bottom lip trembled uncontrollably as my eyes welled and tears streamed down my face. I couldn’t respond because my voice was shaking so much.

“kya hua cate?” (what happened, Cate?) She asked.

“Bahut miss karungee, aap” (I will miss you very much) I responded.

And she responded the same as she reached out her hands to wipe away my tears. Then she moved her hands to firmly grip my forearms, then back to my face to wipe away more tears.

I wanted to express my gratitude so that she could know how deeply her presence impacted my life. She was consistent when I couldn’t even put into words what consistency meant.

Saying goodbye to her was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I felt confused about why I struggled so much and I think it’s because while she technically worked for me, in so many ways she began to feel like family to me. The City of Dreams taught me that there’s a lot to learn in the first 30 minutes of waking. It taught me to cherish the mundane moments and even the ones of discomfort because specks of beauty so often fall in between.