The act of leaving home

Home is what you call your roots. The place that shields  you, nurtures you, comforts you – that, my dear, is your root. That is who you are. The place, the people, everyone, and everything around you, make you. So it gets difficult to detach those overt and covert, subtle and obvious strings that you so carefully nourish for a considerable amount of time of your life, when you leave your city. You are probably not intending to detach your ties literally, but the possibility of a physical proximity diminishes. A part of you remains there. A part of yourself is carried to the new place where you plan to settle for the years to come. The new city may welcome you, be all kind to you, but you can never ever call it home. A string constantly tugs you at the heart, to come back.

This city has given me a lot, has taught me things – how to laugh, how to live, how to fight back; this city has always been a comfort zone – a place where I can always lean on when I’m too exhausted, scared or scarred to think of anything else. The nooks and corners of this place has always haunted me. Its old charm, the grandeur, the must, the dust, the heat, the rain clogged streets, the chaos, the colour – I am going to miss it all.

This city knows about my mischiefs, midnight pranks, endless chatter, silences, lonely strolls, guffaws with close ones, sweet nothings, falls, and efforts to rise again. It knows a little too much about me to break its trust.

‘This city knows about all my firsts;

And the more I try to run away from it, it closes in upon me’.


Messy life in a messed up space!

You wake up one fine day and find pegion poop all over your bedroom; you desparately look around in search of the culprit. And of course! You find the daunting pegion waggling its behind at you and flying away. Your mistake!  You had forgotten to close the skylight, silly!

Right when you’re about to sleep, someone nudges at the door. As it opens on its own, you find a four legged creature’s silhouette, wagging its tail in a friendly manner. Don’t you worry, that’s our everyday visitor. The dog is really friendly. It comes in the night only in search of food. Poor thing!

She’s harmless except the times she overturns all the possible dustbins around, scattering the stinking garbage all over the place!

Every morning, when you’re just about ready to bathe, you take your bucket to the washroom, and behold… there are atleast fifty buckets standing in queue in front of you! Well… today atleast is not your day!

You’re going to brush your teeth. You start brushing. In the end, you want to rinse your mouth with water… behold again! The water’s gone!

Oneday before the exam, suddenly your lights are gone. You lodge a complaint. Both you as well as the authority hope that the electrician will come on time. Later you realize that it’s not a problem of your room. It’s some loadshedding business. So you chill. A couple of hours later the lights come back. You start preparing for the exams.

Two days later, someone knocks at the door. You open it.
A man is standing outside with one woman guard – “You lodged a complaint. What problem is there in your room?” – looks inside the room from over your shoulders.
You, with a lost-faith-over-authority’s-ability look, say ‘thanks, but the problem is solved already!’

Yes! This is the hostel life that I’ve been blessed with. Such a bliss!