When people say that they will miss a certain place it feels strange. I guess I lost my concept of home or belongingness at Pilani and its myriad transitions. I remember the semester breaks in which I would return to Calcutta, a city that has seen all my firsts, a city I love dearly. I remember it would take me more than a week for that feeling of “I am home”,”This is my room, my bed.” to sink in. After a while, that entire elation of home was transformed into apathy. Places hardly felt different. Now, I can go anywhere; do anything without that longing for anchorage or belongingness. I do sometimes wonder if this means being rootless. But, I think I have realized something really important. Home is not a place. Home is a feeling. It’s the serenity of a warm cup of tea in the morning or the solace of a bed after an arduous day. All pearls of wisdom sown, I can’t say the same about people; the people who substantiate the word “Home”. But that’s the way the stones roll-in silent paradoxes.
Goodbye for now Calcutta.
