The
worst part of one's life could be experiencing two different cultures of living
and then adapting to the one that’s much very superstitious and full of
jealousies. One for all, I am just here to share something of my own life.
A part of my autobiography that I plan to pen. An experience filled up with
melancholy that still forces tears to tangle up in my retina. The period from 2006 to 2013, that deals with my life.
A worth sharing experience....But before that, I would like to share a bit of my personal details. I was born in Veraval, Gujarat and I was brought up till the age of 6 in Bharuch, Gujarat. Everything was all well, and I used to be a creature filled with patriotism. I used to love my dear India and all the customs and traditions were respected by me untill there entered a turning point in my life. My father is a professor and worked at J.P. college, Bharuch. One fine day, he got a call for an interview and was offered a job at Oxford university, Britain. He gladly accepted it and then went on all plans for shifting our residence.
My father planned to settle there alone at the very first. But soon, when he reached Britain, he got a severe shock right there. The Oxford University refused to offer him the job. He anyways got forth with some other job at the largest mall in Guilford locality. But that just bored him and strained him to its fullest. He returned back to India.
But whole of my cogitations were with the snowmen in Europe. My ranking at school dropped down rapidly, wishing that though my father disliked that environment, he would definitely settle down there. And I would no more have to study the stressful stuffs.
And soon the momentous day arrived, my father agreed to go back to Briatin once again. I lived the best portions of my life with the Britishers. I studied in British schools and had British friends and teachers. I led a pleasureful and a humilious life. A life where human were respected. I still remember the day when mom had gone for a job interview and dad was busy with his work at the shop and I fell ill at school. No one came to pick me up, so my class teacher stayed at school with me and asked me to rest my head on her lap. She dealt with me more lovingly than her own child. She had no grudge upon neither me nor my parents, though she had to keep up at school for an hour more than her paid working.
There we were treated like the newly bloomed flowers. Tendered and licked like the newly born infants. Each moment spilled out joy from the pot. Each thing learned, fondled up our thoughts. Even our stupid ideas were appreciated and at the end of the day due to encouragement for the smallest of things, our stupidity transformed to creativity.
Aforesaid happenings and incidents faded off my patriotism for India, and I got accustomed to the kind and caring British behaviors and attitudes. Their honesty and friendliness touched the core of my heart. But stability had never been fated for me.
I did miss India. Rather Indians, rather my family and friends. But one fine day, my father came to me and said that it was all over, and he could no more bear the hardships of living and we were returning back to India as my dad wasn't able to bear the work loads once again. I had a mixed set of emotions. I did want to live there but at the same time i wanted to return back too.
The day I stepped up my flight, I turned down and looked at the beautiful United Kingdom for the last time. Those people were like angels, and rather more holy than them too. But we need to carve out with time. I archived the stay at England as a pretty dream.
But now started the tragic part. After returning to India, my life took a twist. I was into bits seeing my dear India. Injustice was the law that prevailed. Honesty was enforceable to the court of law. Partiality, favors, etc. prevailed right at each level. Appreciation had flown into the vast oceans of jealousies.
This all seemed to me the day I arrived back to India, not because India had changed in the past months of my stay in England, but because, after having experienced one of the best systems in the world, I got to know what a fair system is. And what kind of loopholes Indian people summon in their attitudes.
Here, the best of ideas were said to be silly. Trust and faith had disappeared in the sky like the bubbles that once existed. I used to cry a lot for this decision of my dad. Not just in those days of 2007, but even today I feel that my dad should have thought oncqe again.
My life feels miserable at times of injustice. I feel that I wish I could rectify my deeds. Each part of joy, has a sense of grief in its deep depth. Its really difficult to survive in the false attitudes of friendliness and relations. the humbleness of those Britishers still strike up my thoughts and stun my cogitations. Its getting harder for me to survive in India with each injustice done to me and with each depreciation that I saw for the deeds of the mere kids by their teachers.
Now its been quite a lot unbearable to survive in the worst type of systems in the world, after having experienced the best. But my hands are bound. Neither can I help this demolishing country, nor can I help myself to get back to Britain. I couldn't even hope for betterment, as Indians never are to accept my blames upon their way of thinking. And until some wrong working is accepted, it cannot be changed.
The only thing I can do is fly away from this selfish country, or just pray to God for aid. For aiding India- that has still got a chance and a scope to change and not tee off of the deeds of its own inhabitants.
My father planned to settle there alone at the very first. But soon, when he reached Britain, he got a severe shock right there. The Oxford University refused to offer him the job. He anyways got forth with some other job at the largest mall in Guilford locality. But that just bored him and strained him to its fullest. He returned back to India.
But whole of my cogitations were with the snowmen in Europe. My ranking at school dropped down rapidly, wishing that though my father disliked that environment, he would definitely settle down there. And I would no more have to study the stressful stuffs.
And soon the momentous day arrived, my father agreed to go back to Briatin once again. I lived the best portions of my life with the Britishers. I studied in British schools and had British friends and teachers. I led a pleasureful and a humilious life. A life where human were respected. I still remember the day when mom had gone for a job interview and dad was busy with his work at the shop and I fell ill at school. No one came to pick me up, so my class teacher stayed at school with me and asked me to rest my head on her lap. She dealt with me more lovingly than her own child. She had no grudge upon neither me nor my parents, though she had to keep up at school for an hour more than her paid working.
There we were treated like the newly bloomed flowers. Tendered and licked like the newly born infants. Each moment spilled out joy from the pot. Each thing learned, fondled up our thoughts. Even our stupid ideas were appreciated and at the end of the day due to encouragement for the smallest of things, our stupidity transformed to creativity.
Aforesaid happenings and incidents faded off my patriotism for India, and I got accustomed to the kind and caring British behaviors and attitudes. Their honesty and friendliness touched the core of my heart. But stability had never been fated for me.
I did miss India. Rather Indians, rather my family and friends. But one fine day, my father came to me and said that it was all over, and he could no more bear the hardships of living and we were returning back to India as my dad wasn't able to bear the work loads once again. I had a mixed set of emotions. I did want to live there but at the same time i wanted to return back too.
The day I stepped up my flight, I turned down and looked at the beautiful United Kingdom for the last time. Those people were like angels, and rather more holy than them too. But we need to carve out with time. I archived the stay at England as a pretty dream.
But now started the tragic part. After returning to India, my life took a twist. I was into bits seeing my dear India. Injustice was the law that prevailed. Honesty was enforceable to the court of law. Partiality, favors, etc. prevailed right at each level. Appreciation had flown into the vast oceans of jealousies.
This all seemed to me the day I arrived back to India, not because India had changed in the past months of my stay in England, but because, after having experienced one of the best systems in the world, I got to know what a fair system is. And what kind of loopholes Indian people summon in their attitudes.
Here, the best of ideas were said to be silly. Trust and faith had disappeared in the sky like the bubbles that once existed. I used to cry a lot for this decision of my dad. Not just in those days of 2007, but even today I feel that my dad should have thought oncqe again.
My life feels miserable at times of injustice. I feel that I wish I could rectify my deeds. Each part of joy, has a sense of grief in its deep depth. Its really difficult to survive in the false attitudes of friendliness and relations. the humbleness of those Britishers still strike up my thoughts and stun my cogitations. Its getting harder for me to survive in India with each injustice done to me and with each depreciation that I saw for the deeds of the mere kids by their teachers.
Now its been quite a lot unbearable to survive in the worst type of systems in the world, after having experienced the best. But my hands are bound. Neither can I help this demolishing country, nor can I help myself to get back to Britain. I couldn't even hope for betterment, as Indians never are to accept my blames upon their way of thinking. And until some wrong working is accepted, it cannot be changed.
The only thing I can do is fly away from this selfish country, or just pray to God for aid. For aiding India- that has still got a chance and a scope to change and not tee off of the deeds of its own inhabitants.
Don't be so senti
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