on being an america-returned indian

technically irish, the accent gives it away

the latest Thing on X is Indian immigration to America. skipping past the whole shebang of autopsying why the Culture is the way it is, it prompted me to reflect on my conscious decision to leave Berkeley and come back to Bengaluru.

i loved California, the Bay and Berkeley. these are special special places - the landscape, weather, culture, people. there were multiple times, when upon returning back after spending the holidays in Belgaum, that a return to Berkeley and the Californian sky and grass felt like a homecoming.

as a setting for the rite of passage into adulthood, that college can come to become (and ideally should always be), it is truly beyond compare. the expansiveness in which one can forge their identity is radical in its affordances. i would not have my sense of wide-eyed bravado about the possibility space and the courage to fuck around and find out, and so many other traits and insights that feel like an integral sense of who i am, without my 3yrs in berkeley.

and forget this cerebral ramble, california is simply a wonderful place to live. it is rich with exquisite qualia. to camp in yosemite and watch the moonrise amidst the grand cliffs and redwoods, to hang besides the pacific at stinson, to drop out of your apt and run into the rolling berkeley hills to meet the golden sunset - these are moments of beauty beyond the Culture. such are often not so bountiful or are easier to miss most elsewhere.

yes, it is wildly expensive, yes, it does not always feel safe, yes, there is a certain loneliness trap foisted by the fomo in the air that can be difficult to avoid. but there is no argument about it not being one of the best places in the world to live.

it is.

yet, i find myself here in chikkabidarakallu, 2nd last step from the green line in namma bengaluru. and in most timelines i would not trade my blr apt for a sf one.

here, a couple walks and 17m metro ride away in Malleshwaram, dognosis has found a lovely 2 story building w a sunny terrace. i get to spend 5 days a week with 9 other humans, all incredibly talented and curious, working together to unravel the secrets of canis familiaris.

also here, a 30min drive away in Nelamangala, dognosis has found 2 serene acres of farmland, decked up with a farmhouse, a shed, a lab, a kennel complex, two shrubby yards, and a whole ass pool. in the winters, the sunrise is greeted with a soft mist that shrouds the trees and leaves dewdrops on the grass, while howls and croaks from bengal foxes and frogs enchant the night air.

yes, there is awful soul-crushing traffic and bureaucracy. the air does not get you drunk and solitude is not easy to find. trash and faeces are part of the background set. you do not have the easy-goingness that comes from the set of givens provided by a State with capacity unshackled from petty corruption. it would be challenging to make a claim that this is one of the best places to live. it is not.

harken back to leary and others before him on how the set and setting can alter the course of a psychedelic journey. set - the state of one’s mind and setting - the space of one’s surroundings - both matter in how the activation of serotonin 5HT2A receptors manifest through the matters.

while the land will always be a vital part of one’s story, it is surprising to realize how fertile it can be, no matter where you go and how arid it may initially seem. the possibility space is nearly always close to infinite, and many of the crossroads point to forking paths that allow for agentic meaning that remains untrammelled and untarnished by objective bests and subjective tastes.

you can just do things, wherever you are.