Leaving Israel

The newly-minted memories came rushing in as soon as Michael drove away from my apartment of more than two months. Apropos enough, it was at that moment that he remarked that I should now say goodbye to the street, the city and later on, the country. Though it seems cliche, it is indeed quite true that the only time you appreciate your current place the most is when you actually leave it. And so it goes for Tel Aviv, and for Israel.

I was inspired to write short verses while waiting for my baggage security check. No longer fragile, The city is a memory and Strangers in the Room just seemed to burst from the pen. Perhaps part of it was because there were a lot of goodbyes said today, so much so that at some point, I just wanted to vanish into thin air. Goodbyes always unleash a torrent of emotions, both welcome and unwelcome. But even the unwelcome ones are there because somehow the place meant something, or rather the people in it, meant something to me. I am continually amazed at how I managed to survive this two-month foreign odyssey. I have been sustained and kept alive by the kindness and generosity of random strangers turned friends.

But even my hyped-up dreamy bubble couldn’t help but somehow burst in the face of reality. I caught the suspicious look of the airport guard as soon as Michael gave me a farewell hug. It continued to the baggage check where the lady, after rummaging through my meticulously packed luggage (that was for utilitarian reasons – that was the only way I could seal the suitcase shut). just left it there for me to return to its original pristine and lock-able state, to the final check before proceeding to the gates, where an obviously freaked out screener, after seeing the Arabic Catholic missal in the outer pocket of my bag, hurriedly called for the security supervisor to grill me. For some reason, I took note but remained calm and unfazed at these things. Unfazed enough to even try to be a smart aleck with the security person. But perhaps it was for the same reason that they let me go in the end. My Harvard ID is my get-out-of-jail-free card.

Nevertheless, this is not the most important thing. It was no coincidence that I am leaving Israel the same way I began it – with another stranger-turned-friend driving me to the airport, underscoring the point that somehow when you follow your heart, the universe takes care of the rest. It wasn’t an altogether giddy adventure to be sure. There were lots of tears shed and empty nights ruminated upon. But there were also sublime moments of joy and enlightenment. I couldn’t have imagined it any other way.

The city and the country were a source of alienation inasmuch as they were a source of fellowship. Its foreign language was for the most part a barrier that stood tall and formidable in the face of my longings and expectations but the Mediterranean waves also soothed the nerves and more than adequately comforted a tired and weary heart. It gave me food and drink even as it induced hunger and thirst. Its religions and traditions which is always on the verge of destroying, are likewise the same source of so much life and creation. Perhaps that’s the way it is ordained to be. After all, who can appreciate life without the horizon of fragile mortality?

So as time passes by and the memories start to fade, I write these words to preserve the remains of the moments that I will remember from this summer. The ironies, profundities and banalities have all contributed to this surreal experience. But even that is a misnomer, for the only experience there is, are the moments we live. And that – is always real.