I’m almost a traveler who once undertook a journey around the world, saw new places, met new people, learned new languages, cultures, traditions… and moved on from one place to another till I returned, weary and heart-broken. ‘cos it is the very nature of traveling. You roam, but you return home.
What is home? If I’m the light, then its source. If I’m a soul, then the ‘one’ soul of which we all are a part. Home is the place which makes us feel rooted; which pulls us towards itself strongly, at the oddest of hours in the strangest of places and which leaves a thick taste of desire on our lips, every time we smile. And in this mortal existence of ours, we often equate it with the physical structures, with brick walls and tiled roofs & televisions and computers & with windows that open up to a neighborhood of our choice.
I, who’ve always been dreaming of a house of my own, always, found out that my home was not in any corner of this metropolis called Delhi. Or in the many places I lived throughout life.
It is when I meet her after waiting for a week or even after a few hours, it is when I embrace her finally that I feel, I’ve returned home.Image: Couple Kissing in Train Station Mary Rae Bingham kisses her boyfriend, Gordon Kiester, in the sunshine from a window at Michigan Central Station in Detroit, December 1944. Kiester is about to return to his duties as a sailor after a Christmas holiday break. Image: © Bettmann/CORBIS Date Photographed: December 28, 1944.
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