On the first day of my freshman year of college I met two people who would, inevitably, change my life. Over the years these individuals became my best friends and the amount of stories I have about our four years together would be enough to, quite easily, fill a book. One of these people was my freshman roommate, Lindsey, who I'm still unbelievably close with. The other was my housemate the past two years, Sruthi. I'm sure I'll be writing about both in time, but this post is most specifically about Sruthi.
If you can't tell from her name, she's Indian. She was born in India and everything, and she just moved to New York City to begin her new job almost two weeks ago now. Prior to her big move, we had one big move to accomplish together: moving out of Geneseo. We spent the most wonderful, nostalgia-filled day cleaning and packing up the final remnants of what was our home sweet home for two insane years. We contemplated all the events that took place in each room, both happy and sad. We said what was, in all likelihood, the hardest goodbye either of us have ever had to say to a place before in our short lives. We left pieces of ourselves there, among other things, and hope as well. Lots of hope. Hope that those who inhabit the house after us will love 4 Oneida the same way we did.
Prior to leaving Geneseo for the last time together, we stopped at Pizza Paul's and had a few balls (you really won't understand that unless you went there-and no, it's not perverted.) I received a phone call from my parent's about the apparent monsoon that was flooding my home town. They asked if I could stay at Sruthi's since I had to drop her off and the weather was nicer there. This seems pretty basic, yeah? Well it's not. Nobody goes to Sruthi's house. Not because she doesn't have friends (she literally knows everyone), but because her family situation is a little different. She has very, VERY, traditional Indian parents...and Sruthi is anything but your typical traditional Indian. Upon reaching her house Sruthi informed me that, at twenty-one years old, I was to be her very first sleep over.
Seeing the Venigalla household for the first time I was transfixed: I was finally setting eyes on the famous, elusive, Venigalla home. Not only was I seeing the outside, but I was about to spend the night there! Since you don't know Sruthi, I need to give a brief nut-shell recap of her life: it's insane. The stories this girl has told me, honestly, I couldn't even begin to describe it. I've been begging her to write a book about it, even an anonymous one. Tucker Max has nothing on her.
Anyways, walking into her house we were all giggles. Seriously just like little eleven-year-olds about to have their first sleep over. We tried to keep quiet as we shut the door and crept upstairs, but the wood was a little creaky and her mother heard us. Let me just say here: Mrs. Venigalla is adorable! Such a cute little Indian woman who still has her accent. I thanked her for letting me spend the night and she told me there was no way I could drive home in such horrible weather. Did I mention that Sruthi's family practically only speaks to one another in Telugu? It's the dialect from the area of Indian they're from, and it's so freaking cool.
Back to the story: Sruthi went to downstairs with her mother briefly and was again stifling her laughter when she came back up. Apparently her mom believed we were intoxicated and pulled on Sruthi's cheeks to try and get a better look at her pupils. There are really funny back-stories to this, however you won't be hearing them unless Sruthi writes a book.
I was to sleep in the guest room downstairs and Sruthi ended up staying with me. The bed was covered in embroidered elephant sheets straight from India. (They were unbelievably comfortable!) We went to get water and said hello to her dad (who decided to show me his iPad). While I looked at the family pictures on their mantle, Mr. Venigalla decided to head to bed, but he stopped to say goodnight to Buddy first. Buddy is their yellow labrador retriever who is unbelievably adorable, responds to English and Telugu commands and loves all kinds of attention. He sleeps in a very large kennel at night and Mr. Venigalla started talking to him-telling him what an "excellent" and "outstanding puppy" he was. It was pretty much adorable. I would also like to point out that, one time when they brought Buddy to Geneseo, Mr. Venigalla told Buddy he was not allowed to stay in Geneseo unless he was to get a scholarship, then it would be okay. Remember, you have to think of all of this with a thick, cute, Indian accent.
I know this all seems random but, in reality, it does flow and make sense. I wish I could show a video but, alas, I can't. So you'll just have to trust me on this one.
Sruthi and I were up very late (like a true sleep over, haha.) I awoke in the morning to Buddy licking my face and Mrs. Venigalla chasing after him saying "Ah, no Buddy, no! Sorry, sorry! Come on Buddy!" She put her hands on his rump and steered him out the door (after he ate a few tissues-don't worry, they were unused.) She apologized to me multiple times but, in reality, I think waking up like that with Buddy was the best way to wake up (my puppies died a few years ago now and I miss them quite terribly.)
We spent the morning talking some more and watched the beginning of "The Virgin Suicides" before I needed to leave for work. The goodbye was hard (much harder than saying goodbye to 4 Oneida), but we knew it wasn't forever. We've talked a few times since then, but it's been brief and random as she acclimates to her new life in New York City. We're planning on me visiting sometime in the Fall, depending on where I am in my life at that point. This way she has more time to get settled and find her new niche as well.
While this post was supposed to depict my experience at the Venigalla household in more detail, almost as a social experiment (not offensively, she and I discussed this the morning I left), I think what I previously typed is more fitting. It doesn't matter if nobody else understands the weight attributed with that night. I know, when she reads this, Sruthi will understand, and I understand, and that's all that really matters. I am so unbelievably proud of my housemate, and she knows this. She's forging her own life in the big city, starting to accomplish everything she's been dreaming of up to this point. She's working with disadvantaged youth and, slowly but surely, making the world a better place by enriching the lives of those around her. Honestly, if you ever get a chance to meet this girl you'll understand. So, for now, I'll end this here. Know that nostalgia can be wonderful, and, quite often, it's the times you do nothing, that really mean everything. A toast to what really matters (courtesy of Sruthi herself):
"There are good ships and wood ships, the kind that sail the sea.
But the best ships are friendships, and may they always be."
Best of luck my dear, I'm so proud of you and can't wait to hear all the wonderful things you've been accomplishing! I'll be joining you one day!
Peace and Love.
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