Imperfect Pyaar

2.) Roshan

I absolutely hate winter. My feet are aching, I can't feel my hands, and my nose is running faster than Usain Bolt. 

Either way, per my parents' request, I'm making my way over from Chicago back to Philly for the holidays. Ever since I graduated from college and moved to the city a few months ago, my mom hasn't let me live down the guilt of leaving her, my dad, and brother "all alone" in our hometown.

While I understand her complaints, it's not exactly like the adjustment from my lakeside college town to downtown Chicago has been easy. Finding a job, apartment, and learning to live for something other than going to class the next day has been a lot more difficult than I had imagined.

I won't lie, though, my Northwestern data science degree definitely did me some favors and I was able to find a job working as a data analyst at a local company called χMed, specializing in healthcare technologies. 

Don't get me wrong, the job pays well and the benefits are great, but it's not something that I'm constantly celebrating, even though I feel like I should be. 

When I bring up this skepticism with my parents, they brush it off the same way that they do all other "temporary" discomforts.

"Beta, you have just now graduated. It is completely normal to have some growing pains here and there. What matters now is that you are financially stable."

I never have the energy to argue, and besides, they're right. Patience is an important virtue, and I've only been in the adjustment phase for six months. What's more is that I was the one that stuck through four years of undergrad study specifically for the degree that got me this job. Why would I have done that if it wasn't exactly what I wanted?

Coming out of the rabbit-hole that I've fallen into for the hundredth time, I'm suddenly once again aware of my surroundings. 

The people on the Metra are busy minding their own, occupied by their books, phones, laptops, and music. The Metra itself is steadily rumbling along its track, slowly swaying as it does.

Eventually, I hear a soft ding accompanied by the blinking light that indicates my stop at O'Hare International airport.

Checking to see if I have all my luggage, I step off the train and into the cold air. I can see my breath in small clouds as I exhale, and I pull out my phone to shoot my parents a quick text.

Roshan: Made it to airport

Maa: Ok beta... see you soon...

Papa: ok

I smile at my parents' texting styles, shared by much of the middle-aged desi community.

Rummaging around in my bag for my boarding pass and ID, I pull them out and stuff my phone in the pocket where they used to be. 

I sigh, thankful that for the next few weeks, things will feel like they never changed, and the sudden pressure of forced independence will finally be suspended.