Belonging in a new country and living a special dream

I had my life all planned when we moved to the predominantly white Scarsdale from India in 2013. I would settle my 16 and 14-year-olds in their new schools, set up our home and get a job in Manhattan. I had great references from my workplace and a work permit; in a DKNY business suit I would live the corporate MBA American dream. I was 45, and excited to be in this land of opportunities. 

In the midst of the job search I decided to explore my new home on foot and lose weight. 

I had never experienced fall and was fascinated with it. All was well in my world till I realised that I was one of the few people walking in the village. Almost everyone else was running; around me were tight bodies and toned calves. I was inspired but soon ran into trouble. My lungs would scream for oxygen and the gently rolling Scarsdale roads (that make landscaping look so gorgeous) killed my legs. It was embarrassing to see decades older people zip past me. The doctor identified it as a tightening of the IT Band. He recommended I modify my diet to lose weight and join the gym to strengthen my legs.

I joined an upmarket gym in Scarsdale and whatever little shred of positive body image I had, melted away. There is nothing like seeing another woman’s naked body to get a perspective on what is wrong with your own. I saw perfect breasts of all sizes, flat muscular tummies that did not look like they had ever held babies in them, and toned limbs that fitted so well in a dress. I hated them and their bodies and hated my own. Nothing seemed to budge the fat from my body. 

My unhappiness grew. Despite my experience in India no one was willing to offer me a position in the US. I went for many interviews, smiled and chatted over cups of coffee; in the feedback I was told that though I was intelligent, competent and capable, I did not understand the local market. I had never faced rejection and for the first time in my adult life, I was not earning my own money. 

It was a bitter winter for me. I felt trapped, under-confident and pessimistic. I had never been lonelier and so friendless. I wanted to go home — back to Mumbai and to all things familiar.  

In order to kill my loneliness I began visiting the Scarsdale library. I was charmed by it… a lovely building with loads of books, periodicals, movies and hot coffee!  I started frequenting the library and it became my refuge. I wrote my book there, observed the patrons and struck up conversations with the librarians. 

Then one day, the director of the library came up to me and asked if I would like to be interviewed for an exhibition on the library and its patrons. 

Something shifted in me that day. The gloom in my heart lifted and I finally felt I belonged. It was time to change my perspective. I missed India, but for some years the US was going to be my home and there is much to be enjoyed and explored here.  

And I am not the typical slim, sexy Scarsdale mom and may never experience the corporate American dream in a DKNY suit. But at 45 it is time for me to create my own special dream and live it — in my comfortable sweatpants. 

The author is the writer of Unravel and manages a book review website