The joy one feels upon returning home after spending several years abroad is truly beyond words. If I were a poet, perhaps I could compose a few clever verses and bring some satisfaction to my heart. But, lacking that talent, I am forced to make do with mere words.

When a mother is out of sight for a long time, the happiness children feel upon finally finding her is immense—but the joy I experienced was a thousand times greater than that. The very moment I caught sight of the distant shores of Hindustan, as the steamer drew near to the Bombay coast, I was so overcome with happiness that I rushed up to the deck, stood there, and let tears of joy stream down my face.

All the while I was away from my homeland, I was convinced that our country was the greatest, the most ideal in the world. I would argue with everyone abroad in the same vein. “There is no country on this earth like ours!” I would declare. When you’re away, you either don’t notice your homeland’s flaws, or you forget them altogether. I believed that all the virtues found in foreign lands were present in my own as well. Whenever I spoke in this manner, the locals would look at me with a mixture of amusement and pity. They would laugh at me as if I were a simpleton.

For some reason, it was my misfortune that whatever I expected would happen, the opposite always occurred; whatever I imagined, reality would turn out to be the exact reverse.

The steamer reached Bombay harbor. It hadn’t come to a complete stop yet. No one had set foot on land. At that moment, it became clear that everything I had assumed was wrong, that my words were false, that what others had told me was the truth, and that all my imaginings were merely fantasies.

Barrister Parvateesam

I learned that this was the only reason. Would you believe it, before the steamer had even come to a complete stop, a hefty Sharab (money changer), with a large turban, sweating profusely, panting, wiping his brow with his shirt, looking around at everyone and grinning foolishly, made his way up onto the deck. Now, if one arrives, is it not proper to sit respectfully on a chair or a sofa? But this fellow squatted right on the floor, in the middle of the walkway where everyone passes. Do you know why he came running as if he might collapse any moment? To give change to those who needed it, of course! After all, everyone on the steamer was coming from foreign lands. They wouldn’t have pounds or shillings, only rupees and annas. But without local currency, nothing could be done here. So, for the convenience of travelers, he had resolved to exchange foreign money for local money. A fine idea in itself, but it’s not as if this Sharab had any particular affection for us—his real intention was to