Last evening at home!
It feels like I’m leaving my own body behind, and every single vein of my head hurts, and I don’t want to go anywhere. But that’s fate, you know.
What do you miss about home? Persons? Objects? Comfort?
I’d say moments. You miss moments. Your father watching stupid noisy non-stop news debates, your mother making tea in the kitchen and humming some old forgotten Bollywood song, your brother playing Temple Run furiously, the two cats plodding on the boundary wall and the to-be-mother-dove making nests on a solitary branch. You miss the sunlight on the verandah, the fall of ripen guavas, the ticking of the antique wall clock and everything else that feels like home. Home is not a physical space constructed with cement and stones, it is a cluster of feelings, memories and belongingness which take decades to form and grow. Home is irreplaceable, houses can be changed.
So I’m leaving my home tomorrow, and it’s sadder than breaking up with my made-up girlfriend. Why couldn’t humans stay together, always, connected to each other with umbilical cords?
Why ever move, why not an eternal happily ever after?
Maybe stagnacy is just a fantasy. Reality is all about movement. About progression and change. It’s just that sometimes, it hurts.