I’ve been thinking long and hard for a while now, as to what my first article on medium should be about. Writing has never been my mode of expression of choice -I would save it for all the formal college essays and emotion-filled resolutions of fights over texts with the inner circle. But with the lockdown giving me some time on my hands, I thought to start with a personal journey that has deeply impacted me, and the learnings from which I have been meaning to articulate. I went from living in my dream city New York, working on some of the world’s craziest design projects to now being 27, unemployed, unmarried, and sitting at home. Basically, a world different from what I had imagined and planned my life would be.

While I am not entirely qualified to answer the question — ‘ What is it like moving back to India?’ yet, it took me a lot of mistakes to land up where I am today. Here’s hoping that you reading this can avoid a few along your journey. (The intention is not to be didactic.)

When I made the decision to move to America, I always knew I would come back someday, until the flip happened. Come August 2015, I left reluctant and teary-eyed on a flight to Pittsburgh to pursue my masters. It was safe to say the roller coaster began then, with so many firsts of both highs and lows. The first time I shared a house and bathroom with strangers I had only met over Facebook messenger. The first time I went and bought groceries to expand my cooking repertoire of only two dishes, pasta and sambar, struggling to arrive at quantities and a budget that made sense. The first time I experienced the joy of snow, but also the first time I stood at 2 am alone in the cold waiting for the college shuttle, tears freezing on my face from homesickness and exhaustion. The first time I carried three twenty-three kilo suitcases up narrow flights of creaking stairs, besides all the weekly groceries and laundry. As much as I embraced the freedom of being on my own and having lesser obligations, I had lived a sheltered upper-middle-class life in India till then, spoilt by all the household help. I did not love the new life and ran back home to Chennai at every break I got. In hindsight comes lesson one.

Your mindset determines how you live through an experience.
I wish I had embraced Pittsburgh more, explored the city, and really given it a chance. I should have attended more of the local sports games, local music and arts festivals, and did other things I used to do back home to give me joy. Granted, I was pretty much always stuck in the studio working on some submission, but taking the time off would have done me a lot of good. Instead, I complained about the wide empty roads, the quiet of the neighborhoods, the ‘smallness’ of the city, and the ridiculous timings of restaurants. (Who shuts at 9 pm?). But a wise friend visited and then told me-
‘This is what America has to offer, might as well enjoy it when you’re here.’

After a lot of whining to and support from the close friends and family, with some grit, I landed myself a job in a reputed company in my dream city- New York. Oh New York! The endless sidewalks of cafes and shops, parks every couple of blocks, the waterfronts, restaurants and bars, the pace — I could go on forever. But initially, in my rush to be with people that I already knew from home, I took up a sub-par living situation that did not do well for my peace of mind. My roommates were very nice people, but I did not give myself the right kind of space to live and grow. I was paying $1,225 dollars for a 7' x 9' room that did not have a full wall (oh New York) or wardrobes and was adjacent to the kitchen. To add to it, I was an extremely light sleeper. In taking turns for the bathroom and the kitchen, and giving my father the shock of his life when he visited, I realized that the only glamorous thing about my New York life then was the address- Wall street. In that year came the next lesson — trust your gut in making the decisions that put your needs first.

It was the same year that I did not get the H1-B at the only attempt I had for it, (I was a non-STEM degree) but I was FAR from wanting to leave New York. I was presented with the opportunity to pursue another Master’s in Project Management as an option to buy time — a loophole to give me another chance at the H1B. I was scared. Scared to come back and start working at a fraction of the pay in India. Scared that I would not be able to find a good urban design job back home. Worried that I would not be able to work on such large scale name-value projects in India. But then, also uncertain about managing a full-time job and a master’s degree at the same time. Yet, most of the advice I got was to try the option — because what if? What if I came back and regretted not to have given the visa another shot? YES, a visa that essentially is a lucky draw. I consulted with several friends and family as to what they think I should be doing — so much for adulthood and taking my life into my own hands! I heard a lot of — 
1. ‘You can always come back to India, it is your home, but cannot go back to the US to work when you want!’
2. ‘Will you be able to adjust to a low income when you go back? How are you going to manage your lifestyle?.’
3. ‘Why go back and struggle with the population and crowd, when you have the chance to work longer in a global company that gets you better exposure? You have invested so much in the masters already.’
4. ‘If you do not like the course, you can always drop out?’

All sound logical, right? How could I not pick this option, when many were casting doubts on your consideration to move back? So I went ahead and started this degree even though every cell in my body did not want to do it. I ran home from work twice a week at 5 pm to attend two-hour virtual classes where attendance and participation were graded and had to keep Sundays for homework. I had to go up to Harrisburg once a month, a four-hour train ride away and hated it all more than I could express. I intensely disliked writing papers on organizational leadership and coming up with fake projects in architecture based on Agile methodologies. I was doing a largely IT based program while wondering how on earth scrum applied to my industry. As you can see, I let my whiny side resurface again. I could not afford weekend plans with friends as I had assignments and quizzes. No more leaving the country in the fear that immigration would question me. I missed weddings, road trips and just having a day a week to myself in the hope that I could live and work in the USA peacefully someday.

Now that you’re done feeling sorry for me, I do recognize that all these sound like first-world problems. I’m going to give you a hint here about how I ruined my health with my mental state a little later in the article. In retrospect came one of my biggest lessons, as I realized I was starting to act like America was my only destiny. A large lesson there- Do not put all your eggs in one basket. The world is your oyster, and opportunities are plenty. (I did not say visas were!) While it would be easier to know your priorities before you move countries — as each one offers a completely different experience and an end goal — it is okay if you do not as well. Should you decide to move to America as an immigrant, uncertainty will be the theme in your life till you get permanent residency there. Countries like the Netherlands are easier with visas and have a design focus that may align with yours! Or, for example, should I have chosen to stay back in India, and put in that same effort here, I would have been handling projects of different scales right now, either as an independent designer or a project architect in a firm. Yet, as I am learning right now, instead of viewing this as a setback, or as a competition between peers and colleagues, there is a specific skill set I have learned from my years there that I will now leverage to carve my own path forward. Yes it will be hard, but it is okay to start from rock bottom. Not to make this an unsolicited advice piece, but if you are not in dire need of money to support your family and you recognize that there is learning in everything, I would recommend working at practices whose values and principles align with yours a couple of years into your career at least.

The silver lining in all this chaos was that I had wonderful bosses and colleagues who were extremely supportive along every step of the way. From taking on my workload so that I could leave at 5, even fighting to get me from full-time to part-time, and giving me the time-off when I hit an extreme slump at work, I am so thankful for them. I also had the most amazing roommate in my second year in New York City, who would help me with my assignments, provide moral support the times I needed it and just be there for me. I thankfully had dance, and that once a week of just being in dance class helped keep me sane. My mom rushed to NYC to spend a month with me looking at me struggle, and so did my brother, because every four months came to a decision-making point- should I continue another trimester of the program or give-up and move back?

Giving up. A phrase I had to constantly deal with during my two-years there. It took me the end of the course to understand that giving up was not the weak thing to do. But what was I really giving up? While doing the course, and a project at work I did not have the sufficient skills for, I was really uninspired about everything. Only the visa was on my mind. Heck, I did not even have the bandwidth to recognize all this, call it emotional stuntedness if you may, and was unable to rise to the occasion at work. I was not growing in any way. I used to wake up with anxiety attacks many mornings, and time of visa result announcement, they even escalated to panic attacks. I would sit and work and not know where I was, or wonder if anything I was saying was coherent. I let the doubts of others consume me and become my own. And these manifested badly physically as well. I was dull, tired, and fell sick very often. Oh, the cherry on the cake was I developed ulcers in my stomach, which meant I had to be super careful about what I was eating and how much. Yet, I wanted to attend every event in NYC, wanted to meet friends for drinks, explore different neighborhoods and restaurants and basically, make the most of it of my time there as I had promised myself. And I tried my best to. Once a month trips to get away from the city saw me doing homework on planes, in airports, and even in Airbnb’s from Puerto Rico to Ann Arbor. I had severe FOMO, and would not allow myself to rest in the constant need to explore and showcase to the world that I too had a life. I also had to work out and look good amidst all this, because, how I looked then seemed more important than how I felt. And soon, I burnt out.

I started to question whether any of it was worth it. Every time I came close to ‘giving up’, I would let the fear consume me and constantly continue banging my head against the same wall with no guarantees. I did not want to come back and be taunted for the same- I did not have the courage to take ownership of my decisions and continued playing the blame game with my family, ruining my relationships. It took me a while to recognize that what my parents (and other family) wanted for me was a projection of their dreams at a certain level, and need not align with what I wanted. It is a tricky topic, and needs Indian upbringing to understand fully. Being the older child (the syndrome is real) who never wanted to disappoint anyone around me, and needs harmony to thrive, I often could not articulate myself well in my fights. Yes they have years of experience more than you, but also come from a different generation and upbringing. So in the interest of harmony, I frantically invested a lot of options looking at other possible options to stay back in the USA, scrambling between considering a Ph.D, writing the IELTS for a Canada PR and even meeting a boy through a set-up (talk about caving into pressure and desperation). Clearly, my objective train was choking and turning unnecessary paths. At one point, my company in NYC did not wish to sponsor my H1-B for the third time, and I so I quit. With my house lease ending, it meant that I was unemployed and homeless, but blessed with the offer of a room from so many people to take me in. Instead of moving back, I continued to find new jobs and finish my fourth semester. By now, I was used to a painful routine that seemed less annoying as the days went by, and the temptation of the last H1B opportunity blinded my priorities and decision-making capabilities. But I never stopped advocating for myself all through — You are your biggest support and biggest critic. I was lucky to have had an opportunity with the lovely people at Safdie Architects, which meant that I had to move to Boston. Another decision-making point.

Decision-making does not come easy to me, as I want to optimize all the options presented to me. What I learned soon was, procrastinating or not wanting to make the decision is also a decision in itself. Somehow, the fact that I was offered a job in a starchitecture practice, (Moshe!) the spending power of the dollar, and the newness of exploring another city made me pick the goddamn H1B again. I worked on some great projects, met some wonderful people, and learned a completely new office culture. I spent six months in sleepy Somerville, where the days were much calmer, and I learned to balance things better without the madness of New York. I really began to enjoy the city, biking along the river on Sundays, setting up a branch of a dance practice group with friends, and took in the shift in pace. Third time is usually the charm they say, but, the H1B was not meant for me. After spending a day or two feeling miserable about my luck, came slow acceptance. Well into my fifth trimester at Harrisburg University, I yet again had the option to quit or finish the degree. It only seemed sensible to finish the course, having invested about $30,000 till then.

I decided I had to see as much of the US as possible, and even Canada, before I moved back to India. As my sub-lease ended, I moved three homes (thank you friends and family, and sorry for any inconvenience) while working, doing a thesis, and planning this insane trip. I quit Safdie with a heavy heart, and set across North America —Boston>Bay Area>Vancouver>Montreal>Toronto>Chicago>West Lafayette>Harrisburg> D.C> Dallas> New York> Boston>L.A>Chennai. Do not do this, would be my recommendation. I have more energy than the average person is what I have been told, but often have no sense of my limits. I’m still learning this, but self-awareness is super important for growth, instead of the self-pity and FOMO I practiced. Only you are aware of how much you can take on, and feeling constantly overwhelmed is not something to be celebrated. The occasional kick in the rear from those who know you best is needed but as the very very wise Rumi said — it's your road and yours alone. Others may walk it with you, but none for you. (So do not ask people what you should be doing!)

In those last 45 days, I ate all the tofu and raspberries and drank all the oat milk latte’s I could. I was riding on a high from all the family and friends I met and was indulged by, and crashed from time to time thinking about the $$ I was not going to make anymore and the fall leaves I was going to miss terribly, while riding around in their BMW’s. It took a lot of convincing myself that this is not the end even though my departure date was approaching. Ah, the sense of relief I felt while I got my transcript stating that I had passed — a huge mental load was lifted. TO celebrate, I finally got the tattoo of the skyline of NYC with the words Believe, because that’s what the experience taught me to do.

As I bid adieu to the country that I once believed would be home for the rest of my life, I want to give a HUGE shout-out to each and every one of my friends and family without whom I would not have gotten through this. My ability to be vulnerable with them (a long topic for another story!) gave me the strength I needed. From being there to answer every phone call, listening to me whine over and over about the same things, keeping me fed, offering me a place to stay and even doing my homework, I’m blessed to have you in my life. I left teary-eyed again on the plane back, thinking strangely of Dumbledore’s famous quote about how it’s our choices that show truly who we are, far more than our abilities, and wondering if I had made the right ones.

Here I am back in Chennai for the last five months- unemployed, unmarried, sitting in my parent's house on my privileged ass. (It’s honestly a mixture of self-imposed, peer and parental pressure at this time.) Do I love being back home? Mixed feelings. Is it hard to stay with your parents once you’ve lived alone for five years? Heck, yeah. Am I still confused about the path? Very much so. Am I doing anything about it right now? Slowly and steadily. I’ve spent the last couple of months getting my health in order, eating better, and getting stronger. I needed the break to get back on track physically and mentally. I’m very thankful that I can afford to take this break, and have the opportunity to pick a path right now. As per the plan, I was supposed to be backpacking in Europe with my brother right now, gotten my scuba diving certificate, and also supposed to have a job lined up for me in another country in June. But the pandemic has different plans for all of us.

In all of this, I have learned that life is a delicate balance between making things happen and letting things happen. I started to learn the meaning of letting-go (SO hard!) because not much seems to go according to plan, right? I learned that I am not a failure for having gotten kicked out of a country. I know I do not give up easily, so what do you have next for me, life? There are no guarantees however, and the uncertainty is always going to continue. But I am in a much better mental space to deal with things, far more resilient and more grown-up. For now that is enough. As long as I keep moving forward, and keep creating, I know I will be okay. And finally, I am genuinely excited about the future. Being the slight dramatist I am, — picture abhi baaki hain, mere dost!