A Shifting Perspective; published in The Scarsdale Inquirer on 20th Feb2015

I had my life all planned when we moved to Scarsdale from Mumbai, India last year. 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 work place 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 piled on an additional ten pounds on my already plump self because of the endless farewell parties in Mumbai. All was well in my world till I realized 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. 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.

Food had become a big problem here. While my children enjoy all cuisines, they began to crave an Indian meal everyday. I could bully my husband into eating take-out but couldn’t be unfair to the kids. In India, you don’t have to be super rich to have household staff. I had a live-in cook and my only culinary contribution was the daily menu I planned. Now I struggled to cook what I knew and make it palatable for the kids. I knifed my fingers every other day and stopped getting a manicure because it would not last. I hated the smell of Indian spices that seemed to cling to my hair and clothes and set aside a pair of sweats to cook in.

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. My 16 year old consoled me, “You could go back to school and do a refresher MBA course.”

I balked. At $80000 and a GMAT test, this was not a viable option.

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. To deal with my grief, I decided to write. There were stories brewing in my head since Mumbai but there had been no time to write them down. All through winter, I made the Scarsdale Library my home and poured my heart out into ‘Unravel’. I edited the copy and sent it out to publishers in India.

One day in spring when I was walking outdoors again, a lady ran up beside me. She said, “I have been watching you walk for some time. You look like you are having great fun. I like that.”

Before I could think of anything smart to say, she ran ahead. Something in me shifted that day. I finally felt at home. As I walked I thought. It was time to change my perspective. My ‘thin’ ship had sailed a long time ago and I may never be the typical slim, sexy Scarsdale mom. I might never experience the corporate American dream in a DKNY suit either. I had grown up in India and understood it well but the dynamics of my new home were different. I had to unlearn a few things and learn some afresh.

I joined a writing group, stepped out to make new friends and learnt to use zucchini, broccoli and kale in my Indian cooking. I decided to not go with the Indian publisher; instead I self-published my book ‘Unravel’, because my new friends in the US wanted to read it too.

Sometimes it takes a kind word at the appropriate moment to shift one’s perspective. I never encountered that woman again, but I hope she will read this and know how her act of kindness made me feel welcome!