I’m home. This bursting ecstasy cannot be expressed in words. It’s something you can only feel, and not say out loud. Yeah, I know a writer should have the ability to put every tangible and intangible thing in words, but at some points, you are just too speechless and overwhelmed. Moreover, I’m not a Shakespeare. And neither do I intend to be one.
The journey was painful – no hot and sexy co-passenger – as it always is. Maa was there at bus stand, waiting for me, and guess what, the first thing she asked me after “how was your journey? ” was “you didn’t forget my dress, did you? “. Dear Lord! What’s with women and dress! Anyway, I assured her that I didn’t forget her precious saree and Salwar-suit and proudly rode pillion on the scooty. My mother rides scooty like a stuntwoman, so it’s kind of risky to ride pillion, especially provided that I don’t have a life insurance yet. Hell, I don’t even have an Adhaar card.
We reached home safely though, and every time I see my abode, it only gets younger.
We’re going for a movie tomorrow. Bajirao Mastani. Full family. And trust me, that’s no less rare an event than watching Halley’s commet.
Doctor (yeah, she’s a girl and we chat, like, everyday but only-as-friends ) asked me yesterday why novels have sad endings and like a moron I replied to her, “can’t talk. On bus. Dead sick. ” which was sick but also true of me. She wished me a happy journey and I melted like butter on a frying pan. Today I answered her question. The answer is a John Green quote – all love stories end in breakups, divorce or death. And that’s what novels tell. Love stories in their sublime form. Sad and mortal.
Anyway, back home, they are treating me like a war vet who has returned home after winning inter-galactic battles. Sweets, chocolates and the TV REMOTE!!!!
Life’s paradise. What more could one ask for!!??
Home Sweet Home.