Id's story

On the night I landed here all I could see from my window was heaps and heaps of moist bluish white mass covering the fertility of the land. Never did I believe that I would one day wander in a country that I thought stayed only on Atlas maps. All I remembered was my brother's off white shirt that had barren pine trees printed on it. And that to me was a foreign land. Sometimes it was Bangalore's Cubbon park that I thought London looked like. America meant tall buildings I saw on MG Road. Certain days I was transposed to New York in my dreams. For some reason it should really have been California. What did Canada look like? I had never spent any time thinking about it. Russia was more on my mind than my current country of residence. Then after a while the novelty wore off. It was the same highways and exits I saw on TV. Every city looked alike. Seasons changed. Colors of leaves changed. Leaves fell off. It all came back again. Who was I anymore? I thought. Did living in a strange new country transform me anyway? Or was it just that everything I learned was applied in my new life? Anyone teach me anything? The other day in Jhumpa Lahiri's 'Interpreter of Maladies' the writer says that the protogonist is self-educated. Is anyone really? We can all be self-tutored but self educated? Hmm that's heavy I'd say. Now ask me where this is all leading. And I would respond 'into dear K's woven scarfs, C's charming smile, I's manic laughter, E's neurotic behaviour and my tender love's heart. I hide. Never again will I run.