Missing the place I spent most of my life in
I had no idea how much I would miss my home in Delhi when I moved to the United States for college. I had assumed that I would be eager to do new things, get to know new people, and focus on studying. I used to romanticize American education a lot when I was younger. The glorified depiction of studying in the U.S. through shows I watched as a kid like Bella and the Bulldogs and iCarly made the idea of moving here to study something I have looked forward to since the 6th grade.
However, amidst the excitement of wearing whatever I wanted to class and watching the loud, colourful football games, I wasn’t prepared for how much the reality of being away from home would hit me. Lying awake in the top bunk of my dorm I can’t help but constantly miss my cosy home and the people I left behind in it. There’s a constant undercurrent of longing for things from my home that I wasn’t expecting.
New Delhi is where I spent most of my life — it is most of who I am. I miss the lively streets with the smell of street food filling the air and the noises of busy markets. I miss the evolving lives of my friends and family, the simple moments that added meaning to each day, like laughing and eating together. One of the things I miss the most is the food. From chole bhature to biryani, I have been longing for authentic Indian food ever since I got here. While I have found alternatives to these in Indian restaurants around campus, nothing will beat my dadi’s (grandmother’s) home cooked meals.
But most of all, being so far away from home, I keep picturing the places I left behind. I have so many good memories tied to the places across Delhi, these memories replay during each moment I find myself alone.
Upon deeper reflection, I can think of a memory in Connaught Place connected to almost every crucial phase of my life. Since it was so close to where we lived, CP became our stop to celebrate each other’s achievements, meet for birthdays, and shop for anything we really needed.
When I became a prefect in 5th grade, my family celebrated with me with dinner at one of our favourite restaurants — United Coffee House. With my family’s supportive words and smiles all around me, I felt proud and content as we strolled through the crowded streets.
Similarly when I did well on my 10th grade exams (which are a really big deal in India), we celebrated with a small ice cream party. Even though there wasn’t a large, formal celebration, the gesture’s simplicity added to its significance. We went to Baskin Robbins, where we each selected our favorite flavors, and talked about how time seems to be flying by.
Much later, I found myself thinking the same when I went to a UW-Madison meet-up in Connaught Place with some other students from Delhi before moving to college. It almost felt like CP was bridging the gap between me and the next phase of my life. It was as if this place, which had always been important to me, was guiding me toward my future, reminding me that while I was moving on, I could carry its memories with me.
Feeling like a bridge between my past and future, Connaught Place’s familiarity helped to ease the move. This was one of my last times visiting Connaught Place before I left for college, but this experience marked the shift in my relationship with the place as a whole.
Overall, while the uncertainties of life and the distance from Connaught Place make me anxious, I’ve come to realize that my connection to CP is not something that can be easily lost. It’s taken me some time to find peace with leaving Connaught Place behind, but I’ve come to understand that it’s not really about the distance. The memories, emotions, and experiences I’ve tied to this place are a part of who I am, no matter where life takes me.
Connaught Place will always be a part of my journey, shaping how I view the world and reminding me of where I come from. Though I may not walk its streets as often, the sense of belonging and comfort it has given me will stay with me, guiding me through new places and experiences. The physical distance may grow, but the impact CP has had on me will never fade.
Oftentimes in Madison, I’m reminded of Connaught Place by something as simple as the sound of cars honking or the bustle of a busy street. Those are the times when I feel like an invisible string is pulling at me, drawing me back to that place, even when I’m surrounded by raucous sounds and busy people. Beneath the surface of disorder, there’s a sense of familiar rhythm and a concealed sense of connection. Those common sounds transport me back to roaming through CP’s rings, even when I’m thousands of miles away. Back then, and even now, the noise never felt overwhelming — rather, it felt alive, like a heartbeat I can still feel.