The walk back home...

I often want to walk back home. At moments when I’m mad at somebody, or pissed off by a certain situation, or have that unexplainable sense of pain deep inside, my idea of solace is home. A place where I can find myself, mend myself. Or even break myself.

Five years away from the place I grew up in, I know for sure the bonds have loosened. Not that I was ever deeply attached to anybody. Yes, a close-knit loving family I have, which often made me wonder am I emotionally numb to feel that depth of love? And to compensate, I end up visiting my family often. To make myself believe I love being at home. I do love them, but then again, when I come to think of it – what if I lose them all of a sudden? The answer is – perhaps the pain would last few minutes, or days. But not something that would break me.

And that haunts me. The pain of not being able to feel any pain! The pain of being emotionally numb and logical… the pain of watching my heart fight my mind, and then realizing emotions are dead. Dead!!

I often walk back home. In my mind, through soliloquies!

No…home is not Kolkata. Not the window sill in my room where the potted cactus waits to be watered. Not my room on the terrace where half-read books lie scattered. Not my apartment in Hyderabad where my bean bag awaits me every evening.

Home is where I dream of travelling back to. Home is what I hope to find some day, or maybe it will find me. Hope something will take me back home…maybe this blog!