Living bilingually

I leave India in less than 24 hours. I should probably write some sappy post, but I don't have the emotional energy for that right now. It induces too many tears. I'll try to write something when I get home, I suppose.

One of things I'm going to miss most about India is living bilingually. Now, don't take this to mean I am bilingual and fluent in Hindi. Abso-freakin'-lutely not. I am faaaar from fluent and am reluctant to even call myself proficient (though people tell me my high intermediate/low advanced/able-to-get-by-and-have-slightly-above-basic-conversations level actually is the definition of proficiency).

Regardless of my proficiency or lack thereof, I will miss the frequent code-switching into Hindi. I'm going to miss joking about the dearth of shakarkand (sweet potatoes) with my local subziwallah (vegetable salesman), interviewing members of the Gujjar tribe about their way of life while walking in the foothills of the Himalaya, asking my tabla teacher about the tabla-making industry, chatting with families sharing my compartment on trains, and even, yes, bargaining with autowallahs. I'm going to miss all of the basic, everyday interactions that take place in Hindi, from ordering daal-chawal for lunch to flagging down a cycle-rickshaw to shopping for kurtas.

I'm also going to miss speaking in Hinglish, from false-flirting with Ahluddin to discussing Arundhati Roy's pro-Maoist politics with Surabhi. And of course, I'm going to miss injecting individual Hindi words into my English speech (or "chutnefying" my English, if you will)--although I'm not sure this will be an easy habit to drop when I get back to the States (I apologize in advance!).

Living in another language, even if only half the time, is a lot of fun. And in case you haven't figured it out yet, I'm going to miss it.

...I'm going to be that weird white girl who seeks out Hindi-speaking people at the Indian grocery store, aren't I?