From Bombay to Madras

So what if it’s raining? Vani and I today raced through in my scooty pep, as the rain hit hard on our skin and the wind rushed on our faces, dishevelling our hair. It was wonderful, to say the least, to be back driving my dear two wheeler. It is wonderful to meet my sis after about 8 months (and hasn’t she thinned down?). Well, it’s wonderful to be back home.

Happy to be back here, yes..But what’s that? The kind of suspended feeling that I woke up with today morning - a sense of still belonging to a different place and that this was may be a dream, from which I would wake up and rush to take the 9.45 local from Churchgate. It doesn’t take long to see that my being in Madras, is reality, when mom places a cup of steaming ‘Milo’ in my hands. Day before yesterday morning, I was somewhere else, there, where my heart still lies.

I am now reminded of a post that I had written on transitions, a few months back. Transitions – how they rule my life; the last one week at Bombay was one where I found myself engrossed in work, for almost 14 hours at a stretch, everyday. I am surprised, I never complained; somehow, I never felt like. The last day, I walked out, without looking back, as if it was yet another day of going back home and being back the next morning.


Despite all the work at office, I still managed time for things closest to my heart. I walked up to Marine Drive, lost myself looking at the serene sky and the placid waters. I went to my often-frequented Barista at Colaba for a last bite of my favourite brownie and a mug of hot chocolate. I watched a movie at Sterling. I walked down Colaba causeway. I stood for a moment in between platforms 1 and 2 at the Churchgate station staring at the tireless local trains that went up and down, listening to the announcements. I threw one last glance at the Oxford bookstore, a place that I had visited as if it was my second home. Days so full of ‘for one last time’ visits.

Farewell gifts, sweet hugs, moist eyes, seen yet unseen tears, good luck messages and to top it all, a mail from a person who you hold in high regard. It isn’t always that your boss writes you a mail and ones that welcome you to stay back in the organisation, even rarer. I still chose to leave them behind, saying someday I would be back, to this lovely place. The question nevertheless remains. Will I ever go back and even if I did, will things ever be the same again?

It is difficult to fall in love with places; But when you do, it’s even tougher to miss them. When I boarded the train back home, my mind was blank. But as the train pulled out, my heart grew heavier. Isn’t it true that it’s the memories that make a place beautiful? Bombay, where I saw so many of my dreams take shape, where I lived my life to the fullest..She, the queen of my Dreams; She is a tear that hangs inside my soul forever..