My parents moved because their country was divided, I moved because I wanted to. I left the place of my birth, my city, Delhi: a city of seasons, a city of variegated colors, a city of tales of battles and conquests, a city of the turgid and turbid river which is a trickle of its once-mighty self, a city of power and politics. I moved to find and realise myself. To a land far off, which seemed to beckon me, magnetizing me by its sparkle, much like the apple of the garden of Eden. A decade there and I moved again. This time with home and hearth. Back to where I had started, but to a different city, from a landlocked one, now to a one with a shore. The ‘I’, now a ‘we.’ To a land that God made his own, Cochin. 

Once there, we seemed to grow local roots. Though Cochin is located on a seashore, we never visited the shore and the beaches,save for that one hurried trip which was taken to welcome me to the family. The crisscrossing backwaters and other canals along some parts of Cochin, the sea, the Chinese fishing nets were visually present in all contexts, on billboards, on handicrafts, in bookstores, on cloth bags, on sarees, a repetitive motif of life in a shore city. But we lived inside the city, away from the water and the sand and the waves, in Ernakulam. Except for the knowledge that there was a lot of water to visit somewhere close enough, nobody ever mentioned its existence. That to me was a surprise, more so after I visited the family’s ancestral home in Tuticorin, in the southern part of the other coast, in Tamilnadu and understood that some fragment of the family’s life had been lived along a seashore.  And again, the realization that the family I became a part of was also a migrant in their new lands. Just like the one that I left behind in the land of my birth. And, also like what I had become journeying around.

We  arrived in Cochin before our life did. Packed in boxes sitting in a distant garage, waiting for its inanimate journey, waiting to be shipped, after we had settled down. And, to settle down, we moved again, after about nine months from one side of the peninsular isosceles triangle to the other, from Cochin to Chennai, another seashore. But, once again, we moved to the center of the city. Another urban jungle, worse than Ernakulam. It had only buildings and though life was easier and amenities available far more in number, Anna Nagar offered no reprieve. The unregulated moving traffic along the broad roads and avenues left me stressed and uncertain. I was very nearly hit by a speeding car and that made me very nervous to venture out, with little children in my arms. The majestic park of Anna Nagar, called The Tower Park, equally majestically, was a community playground, falling apart with rusted metal pipes jutting out of old and ill-maintained rides with garbage strewn all over. Taking the children to the park served no purpose, it was either locked during the visiting hours or was too dirty.

I was overwhelmed by the sounds, voices, noises, food, customs, clothes, and the language of a new place. Adjusting to them dissipated all my energy. Trying to understand it all was like facing a powerful avalanche. It was as impossible to make it stop  as it was to get out of its way. But, I persevered, for I thought we had settled. But it was not so. The avalanche was hellbent on dragging us with it. Later, I was thankful for it, because it kept me from staying put in the same place. 

My elder daughter’s school on the other side of town, the one closer to the sea, saw us moving there. School admission then too, like now, was a prized commodity and parents moved heaven and earth to secure it.  Having secured it, they moved to any place on earth to make it easier for their children to access it. Nat and I were no different.

The move to the southern part of the city brought us closer to not only the school but also to the sea, the ocean, the beautiful Bangal Ki Khari, the Bay of Bengal, as the eastern seacoast is called. But, I was in no mood to heal. My first glimpse of the sea did nothing for me. I compared it to the Atlantic Ocean, and it seemed like nothing in comparison. But slowly, the sea grew on me. Like the waves that give it the shape and texture, it slowly seeped all the way to my being.

We moved into a big house with four bedrooms, as Nat’s family continued to visit us and stay over for extended periods. Unfortunately, the big house did not come with neighbors and other children to provide company to my daughters. For extra protection, the house owner had installed metal grills on all windows and balconies. It tied my girls down and held them hostage in their own space. They would hang on the grills and look out to the street. To me, they looked like little children in a zoo, only on the wrong side of the cage.  

The beach and the sea were only about one and a half kilometers from our new house. But, I had put strictures on myself, and as much as possible hid from people and the public, uncertain of how I would be perceived. The Chennai of today is vastly different from Chennai of then, the caste, race, and social boundaries were far more rigid then and one just did not occupy a place unless it was created for you. Sadly, no one remembered to keep a place for me on the social line. All the friends I made were people from north India,  who I accidentally met. And they had their own tales of discontent with their lives in the south. 

Eventually, I realized I would have to break free if I wanted to live a normal life. I had not started to drive, scared of unknown devils on the roads. Nat was willing to drive us but it was  only when he was available, not when we wanted to take breaks. I renewed my license, just to be able to give my daughters a life through mine. I was given a mini-van and that soon became our mobile home. It carried us, and our little life in it. And into it, I would put my daughters, their beach toys, a beach blanket, a flask of water, cartons of chocolate milk, some cookies, and slowly drive to the beach. We did this  at about 4 in the afternoon. We would spend about two hours on the beach, before the girls  got tired and hungry, prompting us to drive back home, just as slowly. Before leaving for the beach, I would have laid out the nightdresses, theirs and mine because I too would be full of sand, and the dinner was ready to be cooked with everything mise en place. Some days, Nat would be back from work and we would all watch something on the Discovery Channel and eat our dinner, read a book, and pack the kids off to bed. Any break in this routine greatly stressed my second daughter and as much as possible, I tried to stick to this schedule. 

This was our routine even after the kids started school. By then, the beach had become our second home and even our home was just about a hundred meters away, for we had moved again, close enough to the beach to smell the fish, feel the salty sting in our eyes and hear it roar.  Finally, a move that I was  in control of, its path and destination decided by me. The new house by the sea had a multitude of kids, all sizes and varieties, from all over. It provided a more balanced view of life. We were on the ground floor and with our daughters running in and out of the house, the front door was always kept open. Often, I would find a child I did not know in my kitchen having a drink of water, and many times asking me for a snack. I figured this is the kindest and gentlest way I have been accorded the acceptance I had been searching for. I made a separate corner for the evening visitors in my kitchen. In it, I kept assorted snacks and passed the word around that there was no need to ask and whoever was hungry was welcome to eat what caught their fancy. Periodically, I would replenish the stock of the corner, many times buying more than needed, worried that the children did not like the snacks I had bought! 

The sea saved me, her various moods seemed to mimic mine and when I needed to keep our relationship on an even keel, I assumed that she was following my directions. She allowed me to make her my deity, my goddess, and eventually, my friend. When I was agitated and upset a calm sea calmed me and when I was dejected and forlorn, a magnificent and wild woman with unbridled passion energized me. When I took my mother’s ashes to her, she accepted them with a certain calm that let me wade into her suddenly shallow banks, and when I missed my mother, she brought her back to me in her gentle lapping waves. 

Maybe, I imagined all this, but the sea, from my god, became my gentle friend and companion who was always there for me, waiting and watching. It provided me quiet moments of companionship and also gave me a reason to think and work through issues that kept cropping up in my life. She revealed herself to me gently, one step at a time, and made me understand that things happen for a reason. That as she ebbs and rises, so will my life. The tides took away sand one day and changed the topography of the beach. And just when you got used to the changes, it changed once again, this settled me in, emphasized the chimerical nature of life to me. Like a spiritual text. And also, the consistency with which things changed. And also, how the more the sea changed, the more it remained the same. 

Changing tides, journeying through various trenches brought multitudes of different life forms to the beach, the crabs and the clams, the fish and the shells, the mollusks and angel wing shells, the cones and spirals, names that took me a long time to learn and very little time to forget. The little plastic buckets which we carried and brought all the life forms back home with us, and watched them dry and fill the house with putrid fishy smells, the laughter, and the joy, in equal measures. The sea moved the kids in ways they did not understand then but changed their reference to home forever. The sand and the water, it was the place of their sulks and the place of their laughter and also bouts of sadness. It hid everything they wanted to hide and just walking in the warm waters with their friends filled them with unbridled joy.

The sea allowed me to stay with her. It brought me home and ended the apprehension of yet another journey. And to bring closure to my emotional self, I brought a small part of my father’s ashes and immersed them exactly where we had set my mother’s soul free. And in the waves that carried my father into the deep sea, I could see my mother waiting to take him back with her.