Thirst

The cliché- a man stumbles across the desert with the harsh rays of the sun beating down on his back, baking the ground around him. The heat causes his body to sweat, and his fear makes him sweat even more. He is losing water rapidly and knows this.  His turban drapes loosely, wilted from the trials of finding his way home. There is not a friendly face, creature, or plant in sight.  Everywhere he looks, he sees the same thing- flat land stretching far into the distance until the sky and the ground melt into one point.  

His tongue is thick in his mouth, swollen and pressed against the insides of his gums. His lips and teeth are covered with a thick layer of sand and dust, as if he has been trying to eat the earth.  Despite his throat’s desperate tensing and relaxation, there is no moisture, no water, there is nothing.  

Thirst. 

The word can be used to describe the physical need for water. But it can also be used to describe something that goes much deeper, into the very spirit of a person. 

There is something about walking down a common thoroughfare in a foreign land and suddenly hearing the first notes of a song that is familiar from your own native country. 

At first, you stop and shake your head, craning to hear the notes more clearly, and wondering if you are going a bit insane.  Then you pretend you can’t hear it and continue walking, hoping to speedily arrive at your destination without being sidetracked.  

As you continue walking in the direction, the music becomes louder and louder, and you realize that your heart is beating a little faster. 

The music becomes everything- your family, your house, your bed, your friends, your language, your religion, your culture. Everything you left behind to start a new life in a new land.  

Your feet turn in the direction of the sounds and steal you away from your goal. One part of you cries out in disapproval at this loss of focus, while the other part rejoices in the possibility that, for just a moment, you will be one of many like you. 

The dhol beats thump in the dirt beneath your feet, and the powdered colours fly through the air, turning your groomed Western business wear into a riot of bright splotches. 

“Happy Holi!!!!”

People run around, here and there, hugging people they do not know, and wishing them the best during this festival season.  Your ears are soothed by the garbled mixtures of English, Hindi, Bengali, and other languages from the subcontinent. 

You don’t know anyone, but they are all related to you and comfortable with your mannerisms, your looks, and your way of interacting. 

There is a thirst, to hear the lilt of speech, and the rhythms of your own music. To see the dress and celebrate the festivals with all of the nuances that you would have at home. Even the most learned, cultured, and accepting person from this new land cannot offer the feeling of comfort and relaxation that you feel when you are surrounded by your culture from your youth. 

Just as the man’s thirst could be satiated by only water, so the thirst for your culture and people can only be satiated by them. But this holds no criticism for those who do try and who do know and offer succor from the feeling of being alien. Rather, it is an acknowledgment of age old sentiments, there is no place like home.