Looking inwards first

'Three Indians attacked by a gang of 70 teenaged Australians.'
The headlines screamed out on Sept 16, and the words are still ringing in my head. For some reason, I find it so very hard to associate this horrible, insensitive and racist behaviour with Australians. Only because I've lived amongst them and have been loved by them.
I spent a year of my life in Australia, I made Ozzie friends, I ate at their restaurants, I partied at their nightclubs, I studied at their University and I even lived with an Australian family, complete with an Ozzie cat and dog, who I'm sure found it hard to understand my accent! But the country welcomed me, and not once did I feel like an outsider. Their culture was different, but I was never made to feel like a stranger. Instead, everyone I came across expressed the keenest desire to know more about the land of India, to know if elephants really roamed the streets, and if we knew ancient magic, like the Red Indians.
It will be a year in December that I finished my studies in Australia and came back. Yet, the memories make me smile, and make me want to back. But can I now?
The very fact that it's now unsafe for me to go back to the country and people who made my stay so memorable scares me. It's the same fear that sometimes grips me when I'm travelling home alone at night, or am walking on a street dotted with groups of men.
We call the Australians racist because they've been hurting and telling Indians to go back to their own country. I will not dispute the allegation, but I want to ask what name would we give to the group of 80 men or so who attacked and molested a girl at the Gateway of India in Mumbai a few years ago on New Years' Eve? One girl fondled by 80 men. Do we call the men vulgar, cheap, maniacs, perverts, psychopaths or then plain and simple cowards?
Just like the 80 molesters knew that the girl would not be able to retaliate, so also the 70 Ozzies knew that the three Indians under their attack didn't stand a chance of giving back to them a piece of their disgusting, cowardly behavior. What then is the difference between them and us?
During the recent Ganpati visarjan, as I weaved my car through the different processions a day after the visarjan, the men whistled, hooted and insulted my dignity, and all this while the Ganesha idol, its eyes covered with a cloth, sat behind them. Is this, I ask, a better quality than racism, or sickeningly worse?
Today, I feel as unsafe in my city as an Indian man would at an Australian pub, bus stand or railway station. So, maybe it's time our men give answers for their cowardice before questioning the Australian racism.

Coming to Australia...

Life, as I knew it, changed as the plane landed in Brisbane. This little girl grew up.

There was no Mom to put up with my tantrums; no Dad to raise a brow at my skimpy dresses; no Ankeeta to doll up and party with; no bitching partners – Ankee and Chanda and Booby and Priya and Amrita and Shalina to have a session with; no Mowgli to hug and sleep with; no Neerav to love, hug, fight with and kiss.

There was no car to drive; no extra money to splurge; no job; no absolutely fantastic colleagues; no sign of anything remotely PUNE!

But, I’ve survived. I’ve matured. I’ve learnt. And, I’ve managed just fine.

- I live with the BEST Ozzie family in town. They love me, I love them.
- I’ve made new friends. Some crazy, some sane.
- I’ve learnt how to clean my room, do my laundry, and cook a bit (just a bit :P).
- I’ve learnt how to live without the car. Yes, I’ve learnt how to walk!
- I’ve started attending college. Finally, I’m experiencing the life of a student!
- I’ve realised the value of money! Yes, I’m still jobless and quite broke.
- I’ve understood the importance of keeping in touch with friends!
- I’ve realised what true love is and I feel amazingly lucky to have felt it.
- I’ve learnt that love hurts only if you let it, so now I love without expecting it back; I love without wanting to own; I love only because I want to love.

But more than all this,
Coming here to the Gold Coast, living the life of an international student, and understanding the different culture, has made me realise one important thing:
That I’m blessed.

Blessed because I have wonderful parents, who I know, will do anything to see me smile; Blessed because I have friends, who, though so far away, still care so bloody much; Blessed because I have a family to go back to; and Blessed because I know the One up there is with me through every step I take, every smile I smile, every tear I cry and every breath I breathe.

Blessed because I value Life more – what I had, what I have and what I can have.

And, Blessed because I know I’m on the right path, chasing my dreams.