After our big move to Delhi, I was told it will take a couple of years to get used to our new life. People who had similar experience talked about how they pined for things in their old life.
We have graduated from missing things, to missing experiences like sitting on the comfy couch on a winter morning reading a book. The other day out of the blue I thought, visualized, and also experienced the aroma of a moment standing at the coffee cart in front of Teachers College. It was right outside the building where my office was as well as the dungeon where I worked on my dissertation. The Coffee cart guy knew me well, knew how I liked my coffee. In that moment, I longed for the smile that said, I know you, I know how you like your coffee. The warm heartfelt ‘how are you’ after a long absense that told me I was home amongst the people who cared.

The coffee guy started an avalanche of memories of such everyday strangers who made the city my home.

Keni the Super: Selen and I shared an apartment in Riverdale while I was studying at Columbia University. Parag was studying at another University so he visited once in a while. When his coursework was done he moved to NYC so that we could stay together while he worked on his thesis. So we moved out of the apartment into our own. When Parag accepted a position at UMass after graduation, he moved again and I decided to move back with Selen. When we were bringing in our boxes Keni came to check on us. He asked Parag with a worried look, was everything OK? did he lose his job? Clearly we were together so that wasn’t the problem why I was moving back with Selen. We were surprised at this reaction. We hadn’t realized how much he cared. The visual of that concerned look is still fresh in my mind.

Popey guy: When I got down at 231st street station late at night, the smell of fried chicken from Popeys was the most overpowering. Some days I used to give in and indulge. People at the counter and the elderly guy who was probably a manager knew me very well and my order. The comfort food and the smiles that said we know you were real comfort on some really bad days. One day the manager came forward to have a word with me. This was after the 2008 bomb blasts in India. He told me how sorry he was. He was Pakistani and wanted me to know that he was with me in my grief. I still remember his expression, scared that I might lash out but still making an effort so that I knew he cared.

Note: For non-NYC people Super is a person who takes care of the upkeep of the building and most probably stays in the basement apartment.