New girl
Re-examining a nomadic childhood
In 2026, I have two holidays planned with friends from school and college. We are all turning 50 and it seems like reason enough to plan trips together. I feel grateful to have retained these friendships.
I had a nomadic childhood, moving countries, cities or at least suburbs every 2 to 4 years. Each move meant a new school. So, when I say friends from school, I mean one or two particular schools, somewhere in the middle of my life.
Many people look back on their childhood as a carefree time. For me, being young, even being a child, was a serious phase. Not sad, just serious. Looking back now, I wonder how much of that had to do with being the new girl at school so frequently.
I would usually try to establish friendships within the first week. I say it as though it was my choice, but really, it would depend on the kindness (and sometimes, the curiosity) of others. I would’ve loved to have had an invisibility cloak, but it was inevitable that I stood out and drew attention. Many times, we moved in the middle of the school year, which was unusual. And, if we were moving cities, my clothes, my uniform, even my hair, would be all wrong. I wasn’t shy, but I would always wait for someone to approach me.
It was an unspoken rule that, once someone chose me, and they introduced me to their group, that the affiliation was set for the rest of the year. Loyalty to the group was important, and could be demonstrated by having lunch together or, say, walking home together.
On a few school-moves, I fell in with the wrong group. There were warning signs. These were the kids who were hungry for new friends. They would be too nice too quickly, without any foundation of shared interests. They would want signs of tribal affiliations—like the same hairstyle or same coloured hair-band. Overall, the group’s standards for loyalty would be much higher, and any individuality was seen as betrayal. I think I betrayed groups like this twice in my life—realising and finding a more well-suited group—and they never let me forget it.
As I grew older, and all of us kids grew a bit more mature, say after 7th standard or so, the cell-walls of groups became more permeable. I developed close friends outside of my groups and felt a little clearer about exerting individual choices. I also learnt to express interest in those who I liked.
Overall it was a good experience to have moved so much. I feel shaped by each place I’ve lived in, every person I’ve met—as though, without them, I would be a formless piece of clay.
It sounds sad to some people, but I would also say I am happy to be rootless. Rootless to me is not the lack of attachments, but a multiplicity of them. There is more than one city, where, as the train chugs in, or the plane lands, I have the feeling of coming home.
And home is not a place I blend into. I feel like I am always entering an auditorium after the show has started. I am dressed all wrong for the occasion. I sometimes barely know the language, or, if I do, my lingo or accent is all wrong. What is familiar is the way the door swings inwards, the way the vista opens to me. I know I will find a seat with my name written on the back.