Ishita Sarraf
“Congratulations! You’re accepted to…”
I read these sentences,
barely believing my eyes,
and leap with joy,
“Oh my god I got into my dream school!”
“All these months of hard work have finally paid off!”
In that moment,
I forget all that I am leaving behind.
My mother’s warm blanket,
fights with my sister,
Eating meals together,
chatting for hours with friends
whom I’ve known for years.
I simply feel excited,
ready to go.
All other thoughts fade away into the background.
I don’t realise then—
my life is now forever changing,
I try to stuff my entire existence
into two suitcases,
With zippers straining,
threatening to burst.
I hop onto the 14-hour flight praying.
While I pray for new friends,
I don’t realise that my family is
praying for my safe descent,
I don’t think about my mother,
awake all night
for that one message— “I’ve reached.”
I don’t think about anything.
At 17, I thought I knew everything.
I knew nothing.
But all that will change.
Hurray! I’ve reached—
but this isn’t what I hoped.
Dragging 23 kg bags up four flights of stairs,
Deciphering American banks,
I realise—
I have to do everything alone,
Because everyone I trust
is asleep,
on the other side of the world.
Afraid of making the wrong choices,
I keep moving forward,
My gut is all I have,
My only guide.
I meet people. I try.
But I miss being known.
I miss home.
I miss old friends.
But my smile doesn’t waver
when my mother calls.
I know I have to adapt to this place,
I cannot bow down
to the pressures that I face,
But with each festival
and celebration I miss,
It becomes harder to stay.
No! I must stay determined,
I must become something great,
But my motivation is shaky,
And then—inevitably—I break.
When I missed Diwali,
And heard a trembling, “I miss you,”
In my mother’s always firm voice,
My will shattered,
And it stayed broken for some time.
The first semester has passed,
I am home again.
While everything and everyone looks the same,
Nothing feels the same.
I try to live the life I once had,
but I’m not that person anymore,
I now know how
and sometimes even like to live alone.
I never want to leave here,
but I also want to go back there.
When did that place become my home?
How can I miss the place
that drains everything out of me?
But how can I stay in this home
when I know I am never truly free?
Do I have 2 homes now?
I move for work in the summers,
I keep visiting home,
Every year, I change my dormitory room.
Each time I pack my suitcases
with things old and new,
I try to retain the old me
while making room for the new.
Are my suitcases my home?
What even is home?
I restart my life with my two dusty old suitcases
more times than I even know.
At 21, I have become so much more
than that 17-year-old,
But now that the time has come to graduate
and answer, “what’s next?”
Now as I face a new world,
And defeat unknown challenges
that lie ahead.
I wish I were that 17-year-old girl again.
The one who never had to leave home.