Leaving and Homecoming
A Journey to and from Home
On August 15th, 1999, at 6:15 am in Queens, New York, in a hospital that’s now a commercial complex, on a street bustling with shops and vendors, I was born.
37 years before that day, another boy from Queens entered this world. In August 1962, Marvel Comics released the 15th edition of “Amazing Fantasy,” penning for the first time the now-famous origin story of Peter Parker: high school science nerd, spider bite, uncle dies, great power, great responsibility, and so on. Maybe it was our shared hometowns or birth months, but Spider-Man was immediately my favorite superhero.
After we moved to New Jersey in 2003, I remember our basement’s grainy TV had three cassettes: two Bollywood films (one was the classic Sholay, the other was quite bad), and the 2002 Spider-Man with Tobey Maguire. While I don’t remember my parents buying this cassette, my first memory of a film is watching Spider-Man (Peter Parker) fight the Green Goblin (Norman Osborn) on Queensboro Bridge while trying to save both Mary Jane Watson and a trolley full of kids.
I watched that movie endlessly and countlessly, and memorized every scene, line, and gesture by heart. It was where I first saw a college campus, as Norman Osborn meets Peter during his high school trip to Columbia University’s science department and remarks “Harry tells me you’re quite the science whiz. You know, I’m something of a scientist myself.” By the sequel, Peter had enrolled there too.
My early and deep exposure to Spider-Man left a strong mark that lasted past the “superhero” days. When I won my first earnings in an art competition in middle school, I bought a subscription to Amazing Spider-Man. More than a decade later, I still enjoy flipping through the latest issues when I go to New Jersey.
Somewhere subconsciously, this boy from Queens wanted to follow the other boy from Queens (spider bite notwithstanding.) When bored in school, I would draw out elaborate contraptions that I imagined could harness water pressure, electric currents, and even sound waves. But when I got to high school physics, I realized equations on velocity and force weren’t my forte. I gravitated instead towards history, journalism, Model UN, and all other things that involve talking and writing.
In senior year, I applied early decision to Columbia for reasons both logical and emotional, but the letter I got back was brief. Instead of moving up the NJ Transit line to New York, I moved down Amtrak’s Northeast Corridor to D.C. Slowly, my perceived path with Peter diverged.
In freshman year of college, the answer to “Where’s home for you” was tedious but straightforward: “My family’s from India, I was born in New York, and I grew up mostly in New Jersey.” I saw Georgetown and D.C. not as a home but as an escape: a fantasy of international classmates, selfies with diplomats, and black-tie galas events come true. But when I went back to New Jersey, nothing beat the comfort of walking down Nassau Street, getting bubble tea, and running into old friends.
Seven years later, the faces on Nassau aren’t that familiar. I now go to New Jersey to escape: to relax, spend time with family, and catch up on my comics. Comfort is now Capital Bikeshare-ing from Logan Circle to Navy Yard to watch a D.C. United game. What home is, and what home feels like, is a lot less clear.
Ever since my brother introduced me to Model UN and Suits, I’ve pondered the idea of law school. It was a concept I couldn’t fully commit to, but couldn’t fully shut down. After endless back-and-forth, I decided just to take the LSAT and see how it would go. A year later, I applied to a few schools to see how it would go. And seven years after they said no, Columbia changed their mind.
Even before I committed, the pull of New York was slowly getting stronger. After college graduation three years ago, many of my friends moved there (as a result, I’ve had a birthday party there every August since.) Two years ago, my friend Niko got me a Spider-Man-themed New York Public Library card for the 50th anniversary. Last year, my gym, the Washington Sports Club, literally re-branded to the New York Sports Club!
I write this as I pack my things for a move between two familiar places. As Kaloramic readers know, I keep leaving D.C. and keep ending back here, so I won’t call this a goodbye. And when I start at Columbia Law next month, I know D.C. will still feel like home. But three years from now, will that change? Am I leaving home, or after more than twenty years, finally coming back?
Most importantly, what does starting law school mean for Kaloramic?
The short answer: I have no idea. What I’ve heard about law school so far — especially the first year — tells me that I may not be afforded the time or energy for personal writing, but I might need a creative outlet. And, just as my journeys have shifted Kaloramic from travel writing towards personal reflections, my experiences in law school might evolve my writing further.
Either way, I’ve got one more adventure in store beforehand :)