1st Indian Moving Experience

I’m sitting on a train to Jaipur, land of my new home. I’m feeling exhausted and excited, and a little uncertain (okay, more than a little). But I know it’s where I’m supposed to be in this journey of life that I’m on. Sometimes it’s such a strange journey.

After 4 months in the US I was able to return to India.

A new gal had joined the group in my city, taking care of kids. And as often happens, singles draw together. Because of some visitors, she was staying at my house…I loved having her, confirming my need for a roommate. Not only were there great conversations, but she also helped me with the final packing, pushing me when I didn’t know what to do.

Then the packers came. I had no real idea what to expect, accept that this company was very good. Not knowing if they would be on time or possibly early, I set off to my house about an hour earlier than the scheduled arrival and waited. And waited. Nearly 3 hours of waiting before they arrived – four men, plus some guy who stayed down at the truck. They assessed, asked questions and got to work. Initially scurrying around like ants. I walked into the kitchen area to find my cleaning supplies and some food items all getting packed…pretty sure those weren’t items I pointed out. I realized I needed to constantly be making my rounds.

After some time I was ready for the orange and banana I’d packed. Where was my bag? Despite their telling me no one else had seen it and it certainly didn’t get packed, it never showed up. I really hope I don’t find it packed in with my sofa cushions.

Then they slowed down to a crawl. After a 45-minute chai break they slowly followed each other around from room to room. They’d ask me what else needed packed and I’d show them. We continued like this for a while. I was so ready for them to be gone. But at the same time, I was blessed by a local friend who spent nearly 8 hours with me; helping with some negotiations. One big one was the final payment…there was no record of the deposit a friend had made. After several phone calls it was all taken care of and they were finally on their way, nearly 12 hours after I’d arrived at my house. Seriously, I didn’t have that much there for them to move.

The next day was cleaning day. On my way over more people stopped me on the street. Then my landlord invited me for dinner that night. And then his wife gave me some slippers she’d knitted for me. As I sat in my house all alone, the tears began to roll. This has been my home for two years and so many wonderful memories happened here. I know there will be more; they’ll just be different.