What On Earth Is My India?

I WAS BORN AN INDIAN. I was born a Hindu. I haven’t a clue what it means to be either. I’m a stranger in a familiar land. I’ve got a lot of belief, but no faith to put it in. I’ve got a lot of questions, but no answers to fit them. If we are a nation of farmers, why are we driving them to collective suicide? If we think motherhood is divine, then why has womanhood become a curse? Why is killing a cow wrong, but burning alive the cow-eater an acceptable way to spend Sunday? Why are all our patriots queuing up at the American Consulate? And why does my mum think I should join the line?

‘You should go away to America,’ mummy dear keeps insisting. ‘You are nothing like an Indian.’

It’s all so frightfully confusing, but I intend to rectify this situation. The plan is ingenious, and quite simple. I’m going to explore India like few people ever have, by taking an inordinately long journey around the country; 40,075 kilometers long, to be precise. Just Kaya—my soul on two wheels—and me, and anyone who wants to hop on for a ride, like my pal TT here. If everything goes accordingly, by the end of this journey I hope to be the complete Indian.

To begin with, though, not only do I have to mud-wrestle my own fears and doubts, I have to appease those of my family as well. This family includes my parents, my cousins, my parents’ cousins, uncles, aunts, an aunt’s uncle, mom’s friends, the neighbors, and the neighbor’s sister in Toronto. None of them come close to comprehending my motivations, but they unanimously agree that I’m throwing my life away, regardless of whether I survive the journey or not.

To read more, check out: Who Stole My India? by Amit Reddy
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KARMA YATRI PUBLISHING