As I prepare to leave India for Seoul in less than twelve hours, time feels even more fluid and nebulous than ever before.
There’s an ungraspable, amorphous feeling that accompanies the night before an early morning flight, the last day of a trip abroad, and the final days of school right before summer break. Being the sentimental person that I am, in the last blinks of time that close out a particular season of my life, I approach every moment as if it wouldn’t just be another ordinary moment in my everyday life and cradle it with a newfound tenderness. Tuesday becomes the last Tuesday in 2024 here in India, the last day where tomorrow will be Wednesday; dinner becomes the last time watching Ram press his spatula into the golden-brown paratha on his pan; even walking up the stairs becomes Ah, that’s the last gecko I’ll see crawling above me as I approach the second and third floors.
As cliche as it is, the saying the only constant in life is change rings clear and true, especially in transitional, liminal moments like these ones. Personally, knowing this phrase and going so far as to repeat it to myself in the mirror to internalize it still doesn’t ease the heaviness in my chest, comprised of overwhelming love, gratitude, and ease right alongside helplessness, a sense of loss, and a healthy dose of denial (if that even exists?) that I feel with every changing tide. Our resistant to change is so human of us and connects us all; we can kick our feet and hide out under the bed in our dorm room (true story) to try and fight the passing of time. Last night, I even tried my “stay up as late as possible” technique I use to extend my last day in a place as much as humanly possible. Was it worth it? Somewhat. But no matter who we are or what we do, time doesn’t discriminate. It simply keeps going; trying to fight against the constant flow of time only wears us out, both mentally and emotionally.
After re-reading my first blog post that I wrote within 24 hours of landing here, I’m brought back to my feelings of palpable exhilaration right alongside an unshakeable sense of urgency to make the most of out every moment I would have over the two months in India. As I struggled with this dichotomy over the first few weeks, I realized that my attachment to this unattainable ideal of being 100% present and fully maximizing every waking moment would actually do the exact opposite of what I intended it to. I found my thoughts and attention leap and bound across past, present, and future as I tried to juggle living in the moment while grasping the meaning and significance the moment would hold for my future self.
In hindsight, what has allowed me to show up presently in every moment as best as I could was setting intentions to focus on my five senses and attempt to quiet my mind from my internal chatter, projections, and planning systems (which was quite difficult, to say the least). Of course, this practice isn’t and will never be perfect. We are dynamic and complex beings; honoring these fundamental qualities of human nature and releasing our constructed narratives of perfection enables us to ease more into the ebbs and flows of everyday living and the winding paths that are our lives. It is the practice of bringing intention and presence to the moment in front of us that will allow us to drop into the infinite expanse of now as best as we can.
At the end of the day, parting from people I’ve met will continue to be the most difficult part about closing out a chapter of my life. I feel dismayed that despite all of our technological and cognitive discoveries and advances, it is simply impossible to capture the essence of a person and the mutual feelings of joy and trust you collectively nurture when you exist face-to-face with another human being. Saying good-bye to another person when a future meeting date remains nebulous never gets much easier, whether its for the first or five hundredth time.
What continues to bring me comfort in the face of these ungraspable, perpetual pain points of the human condition is how we’re continuously shaped by the people who come in and out of our lives, and how we carry parts of others with us wherever we go. This concept that we are mosaics of everyone we’ve cared about and loved is one I hold on tightly to; how beautiful and touching is it that we are who we are because of people we care about? From the friends and mentors I’ve made here at the Sehgal Foundation over the past eight weeks to my parents and lifelong friends, I see parts of all of these people in the ways I show up in this world, whether through a new favorite Indian dish I can’t get enough of, a silly phrase, or newfound fascination with a niche historical topic.
As of the time I’m writing this, I leave for the airport in exactly four hours. There are so many emotions coursing through me that I feel like the protagonist of an Inside Out 6 movie.
This isn’t inherently a bad thing, though. Following the words of Krista Tippett from the On Being show, we can view these seemingly paradoxical swirl of emotions as “yes… and.” Yes, I’m indescribably excited to visit my family and friends in Korea and the U.S., and I’ll miss the people and experiences here in Gurugram dearly.
If you’ve been following my journey here in India, thank you for holding this space for me. I’d like to think that this journey I’ve embarked on over the last eight weeks is technically never over; my stay in India will truly be a gift that keeps on giving and will certainly not be the only time I’m here. I’m hopeful and excited to see how my learnings, experiences, challenges, and relationships here will shape my journey up ahead and bear their fruit in everyday and unexpected ways. To everyone I’ve met along the way, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Thank you for welcoming me with open arms and giving me the space to grow, fall, explore, and exist as I am. Until all of our paths cross again❤
-Calla
