Hyphenated-Homestead

Solitude in an Empty Room: A First Night in America” (if you like to know how my morning and afternoon went – start reading from the Top)

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows on the bare walls of my new apartment. Exhaustion clung to me like a heavy cloak, a testament to the long journey, jet lag, and the trials of navigating my way to Clemson from Greenville. The day had been an emotional rollercoaster, reaching its peak as I sat on the carpet, contemplating my next move.

The apartment echoed with emptiness and the silent promise of a new beginning. The air was thick with the weight of uncertainty as I wrestled with Mr. Barefoot to sign a rental agreement, a name that ironically mirrored the state of me in my unfurnished apartment. I chuckled again – “he did ask if I needed a free couch, didn’t he?”

Fatigue pressed down on me as I pondered the profound question: What now?

The ordeal had left me drained, physically and mentally. My stomach growled, a reminder that hunger was an unwelcome companion in my new, unfamiliar space. The prospect of cooking seemed daunting, surrounded by unopened suitcases and the stark reality of having no furniture to lean on. I sat in the quiet, allowing the reality of my solitude to wash over me. A single light bulb dangled from the ceiling, casting a soft glow on the blank canvas of my apartment. In that moment, vulnerability wrapped around me like a shroud.

Amidst the quiet solitude of the unfamiliar apartment, a wave of emotion washed over me, pulling my thoughts to a place thousands of miles away – to the home I had left behind. My tired eyes now glistened with unshed tears as memories of my mother flooded my mind. I could almost hear her gentle voice insisting that I take an extra packet of Chivda, just in case I couldn’t cook right away and grew hungry.

So, there I was, just by myself. No worries about people sizing me up or passing judgment. The entire day threw me off more than I ever thought my first day in America would. I wasn’t expecting a walk in the park, but not a single moment since I touched down in the morning played out the way I had in mind. Now, sitting on the floor with two bags and my carry-on bag staring back at me, hunger gnawing at my insides, reality hit hard.

And then, it happened. Tears just welled up and spilled over. I started crying like a little kid, secretly hoping for a bit of understanding from anyone. I knew no one was around, but I still craved someone to reassure me – to say, “You’re going to be fine. Everything will work out.” My mom would have said it. She always did.

I don’t even know how long I let the tears flow, but reality smacked me back to the moment. Crying isn’t going to magically fill my empty stomach. Where’s that packet of Chivda? I need it, and I need it now. With a rush of desperation, I tore through all the bags, frantic to grab anything I could devour on the spot. Finally, I spotted it. I ripped the packet open and started eating like there was no tomorrow.

Then it hit me – I need water. But how? I don’t have a glass, and where do you even get water around here? Is it safe to drink straight from the faucet? And which side is the cold water? Right or left?

So many questions, but when things are this tough, basic survival instincts take over.

Forget a glass; I can scoop water with my hands and just drink that way. I carried my Chivda into that empty kitchen, perched on the counter so my water source was right there, and I gulped down the food.

Jokes apart, everything becomes a hazy whirlwind for me from that point until I stirred awake the next day, somewhere around noon, sprawled on the living room floor amidst open bags – a couple of empty Chivda packets and a stack of my clothes serving as a makeshift pillow.

Man, when did I even get to the apartment last night, around 6:30ish? Checking the time now – it’s around 12:45pm. How long did I sleep? Was I in a coma or something? I was still in the same clothes that I left India with, almost 48 hrs. ago. Yikes!

Jet lag can knock you out cold, but what do I know? This is my first time dealing with it. Maybe that’s it. After fueling up on chiwada yesterday evening, my body decided, “Enough is enough, Mandar – time for a marathon nap.”

So, Day 1 was finally in the books. I made it! Hooray! But hold on – how did I forget to call my mom and let her know I got here in one piece? OMG – I need to call her. I seriously need to call – but how in the world do I do that?

I don’t have the phone on me. Last night somebody said about starting up my ‘utilities’ and get them on my name maybe that’s what they meant? I don’t know. So, day 1 is over, but my challenges continue!

Grow up Mandar, face Day 2.

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