Considering the number of retractions these days, Conscience seems to be the last thing on the mind of some Con-scientists...

The girl on the beach...

A few days ago, it was my thirtieth year on this planet. A lot happened in this while... I grew up, most importantly, for all concerned !

A lot of people told me 30th is supposed to be big... "its once in your life" ! But isn't every birthday - "once in your life" ? But still, in a world where we bundle up things, round up figures and look for milestones: 30 is a milestone!

Some people have welcomed it with fear and regret, some with joy and celebration, some with the mundane. I was curious to see which way I would go but as things happened, the birthday was a tiny distraction in a larger scheme of events. And so in some sense, I barely noticed it.

But then, several days later, as I flip through Pablo Neruda's collection of poems in the early hours of a sunday morning, I find this little gem...
And somehow, it is probably what I feel... 

 Ode to Age

by Pablo Neruda

I don’t believe in age.

All old people
carry
in their eyes,
a child,
and children,
at times
observe us with the
eyes of wise ancients.

Shall we measure
life
in meters or kilometers
or months?
How far since you were born?
How long
must you wander
until
like all men
instead of walking on its surface
we rest below the earth?

To the man, to the woman
who utilized their
energies, goodness, strength,
anger, love, tenderness,
to those who truly
alive
flowered,
and in their sensuality matured,
let us not apply
the measure
of a time
that may be
something else, a mineral
mantle, a solar
bird, a flower,
something, maybe,
but not a measure.

Time, metal
or bird, long
petiolate flower,
stretch
through
man’s life,
shower him
with blossoms
and with
bright
water
or with hidden sun.
I proclaim you
road,
not shroud,
a pristine
ladder
with treads
of air,
a suit lovingly
renewed
through springtimes
around the world.

Now,
time, I roll you up
I deposit you in my
bait box
and I am off to fish
with your long line
the fishes of the dawn!

 

I still feel like the little girl on the beach, sifting through the sand, looking for those little pebbles and shells, waiting for the waves to bring me more, hoping that one day I will find something brilliant....   ;) 

Till then, I wait, I pick and choose and I learn about what I am and what I want with every passing wave - a little each time.... 

 PS - This is a photograph I took in 2009 during my first visit to the US, and this image has stayed with me ever since. Somehow, I have always seen myself in that image rummaging through life in search for something....

It's been a while...

Time has been strange of late. In some ways, it feels like a lot has happened but when I sit down and take measure it still feels like nothing really has. I still feel as lost as ever and I still am searching - but then I guess that process is eternal. 

I came through some very tiny spaces without losing that semblance of life. I still have some perspective, if not the same.

Days have been going by at the count of 5 days at work intervened by two days of everything else. 

I realize that I haven't spent much time with myself in a long time - doing things I've loved to. I haven't given my mind any space to grow but I have been cramming it with stuff. No wonder then that it feels tired. 

There is something missing still and I don't know what it is. There is something I am constantly searching for and never finding.

Life is a web sometimes and I am trying to find the one thread that will lead me where I want to go without disturbing the delicate balance - but its taking me a long time to figure that one out ! ;) 

Interestingly, after a long time, I am happy again at being left to myself and my computer. I have found that weird space again where I am my best friend and my biggest critic.

My mind wants to soar again now. After a long time, I feel like stepping out and feeling the sun. I feel like getting back to those simple old pleasures like toying with my camera. Not many opportunities have come along but I am hunting... and that is always good ! :)

My Cinderella tales....

It is a holiday today but my mind is far from feeling the freedom. As I sit by the window and wait for the breeze to calm my nerves, my mind is confused, unforgiving and lost. My hand is tied in a cast but the pain seems to be elsewhere as I think of all that you said and try to make my choices. 

What am I looking for in life? What kind of a person will make me happy? Do I know what I want or am I just rejecting everything that comes along because it doesn't fit my imagination? Do I know my mind or my heart? Do I want to spend the rest of my life alone?

Your questions don't cease and my answers don't seem to be coming. 

What am I looking for or rather who am I looking for... ?

These words have been haunting me for long but the noises are louder now than ever. 

I wonder. I question. I put phrases together but they sound meaningless - similar but different, support, courage, comfort, protection, understanding, compatibility.... 

I know I need a metaphor - something that will reflect my thoughts better than what my words are doing right now. Something that will show you what I think and what i mean. Something that will make you see where I am coming from. 

I search the corners of my mind for the one answer that will make sense of all that i think, for you.

And I say in my head - shoes !

I see you smirk. I see you laugh in the windows of my mind. "Shoes!? My foot!" 

But that is what/who I want....

Someone who is similar to me but still not identical. Just like the two shoes in a pair. They are so very similar but still a little different. Life for either, is incomplete without the other because they complete each other. They walk together all their life, matching steps, leading and guiding the other, every step along the way. We can look for a size but ultimately nothing predicts the fit. You have to be comfortable with the other. Not every size or design will fit everyone. Sometimes, you see it and you know - "this is it!" and sometimes, you go back and forth, a hundred times - before the final splurge. On the long road of life, only the good pairs will travel through, with their souls and their minds intact. The rest will be blighted by corns and calluses that will leave them bruised and unhappy for life. The shoes that don't match are not good or bad - just not right for each other. 

But like Cinderella, a shoe is sometimes the key to the search. And because the journey ahead is so long, one might as well wait for the right fit to come along.

I hope you see what I am saying. I hope you understand. I see a light flicker in your eyes for a brief instant before the harsh realities of life snuff it out.

I hope it will reappear even as I question my wisdom. 

For now, I choose to wait for the right fit - because one must try and be absolutely sure of what one is walking into - Always, always! 

The rest as they is life as it comes....

 

Those yellow-tinted pages...

I came back home looking for something good and comforting. Something which will tell me not everything is futile and pointless. I came home searching for something that has been a little elusive of late. For meaning. For People. For reasons to continue.  

As I laid the keys down with a sigh,  I noticed something slide at the back. Something i haven't really looked at in a long time. Something which reminds me of a time that now seems eternities ago. A time when I could call myself a student and when I was looking forward to something bigger and better. Today, those times seem long gone - distant and forgotten. Today, I face the realities of life without the brilliant hope that always clouded my vision. 

Today, as I flip through those yellow-tinted pages, I look back and a smile appears on my face. What transpired doesn't feel all that bad. Those were the pages of a book of memories. A book that was conceived as we stepped out into the real world after many trials and tribulations. From jealousy to deceit, from harassment to appreciation, from love to heart break- in those five years, we had seen it all as a collective. We were now looking at escape - at taking flight as we completed our PhDs. 

I look back at the makings of that book and think of how it had been plagued with problems. I wonder at how this tiny thing had caused us so much trouble then. We had complained of the unfair distribution of effort, lack of interest, acknowledgment etc etc from the others even as we had plodded along with despite all obstacles. Despite all our complaints, we had persisted. The three of us had stayed the course and got the book ready for all our batch mates. I call them batch mates, because friendship is a word reserved for special bonds and while these were not the fondest, there was still a comfort in these relationships. There was still a sense of camaraderie and fun that would shine through the dust and grime of problems, frustrations, egos and differences at everyone of our get togethers. 

That book was a parting note, our swan song to a group that had meant a lot at one point but had soon been roughed up by the winds of time. The past half a decade of our life was imprinted on those pages in the form of pictures, sketches, collages and messages. As I see the pages, I think of all the hours that went through putting everything together - from collecting the pictures, to arranging them to finally printing the book. But then, today, I am glad we did it. 

Because at the end of the book, I see those messages of farewell in scrawls and scribbles and I feel the sentiment behind it all. I see the words - "smile", "friendship", "journey", "love", "farewell" and after a while, I can feel them too. I can feel the presence of that hopeful girl somewhere underneath it all. I at least know she is not dead.

Somehow it feels that the story is far from over yet. That there is a lot more out there than what I am able to perceive. And who knows, something good may come out like that thin, spiral-bound book from the present too. 

An ideal husband - some thoughts that stayed!

Excerpts from "An Ideal husband".

An Ideal Husband is an 1895 comedic stage play by Oscar Wilde which revolves around blackmail and political corruption, and touches on the themes of public and private honour. Saw the movie adaptation over the weekend and I feel reading the original script now. The movie was hilarious, witty, satirical, spontaneous and not devoid of wisdom... all that a good play/movie should be ! Here are some excerpts which stayed long enough with me.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.

It is a great nuisance. I can't find anyone else to talk to. I'm so full of interesting information, I feel like the latest edition of something or other. Well, after some consideration... so much to do, there's only one thing to be done. There comes a time in every son's life when he must, indeed, follow his father's advice: I shall go to bed at once.

"Lord Caversham: I don't know how you stand society. A lot of damned nobodies talking about nothing.
Lord Arthur Goring: I love talking about nothing, Father. It's the only thing I know anything about.
Lord Caversham: That is a paradox, sir. I hate paradoxes. "

"Sir Robert Chiltern: I will give you any sum of money you want.
Laura: Even you are not rich enough to buy back your past, Sir Robert. No man is. "

"Sir Robert Chiltern: Anyway, what's that saying about the sea and there being plenty of fish in it?
Lord Arthur Goring: Ah, yes, but I couldn't possibly marry a fish. I'd be sure to land an old trout. "

"Lord Arthur Goring: My dear Mrs. Cheveley, I should make you a very bad husband.
Laura: I don't mind bad husbands. I've had two. They amused me immensely. "

"Lord Caversham: What are you doing here, sir? Wasting your time, as usual?
Lord Arthur Goring: My dear father, when one pays a visit, it is for the purpose of wasting other people's time and not one's own. "

"if we men married the women we deserved... we should have a very bad time of it. "

"Lord Arthur Goring: Gertrude, it is not the perfect, but rather the imperfect who have need of love.
Gertrude: You seem to know a great deal about it all of a sudden.
Lord Arthur Goring: Oh, I hope not. All I know, Gertrude, is that it takes great courage to see the world in all its tainted glory, and still to love it. And even more courage to see it in the one you love. Gertrude, you have more courage than any woman I have ever known. Do not be afraid now to use it. "

"Sir Robert Chiltern: Is it fair, Arthur?
Lord Arthur Goring: Life is never fair, Robert. And perhaps it is a good thing for most of us that it is not. "

"My father always tells me to go to bed, so I don't see why I shouldn't give you the same advice. I always pass on good advice. It is the only sensible thing to do with it. "

"Wonderful woman, Lady Markby, isn't she? Talks more and says less than anybody I ever met. "

"Lord Arthur Goring: There's somebody I want to you talk to.
Lord Caversham: What about?
Lord Arthur Goring: About me, sir.
Lord Caversham: Not a subject on which much eloquence is possible. "

"Gertrude: Oh, Arthur... what a good friend you are to him, to us.
Lord Arthur Goring: Yes, but we're not out of danger yet. In fact, I believe there's a rather popular saying about frying pans and fires, except now it is you and I, dear Gertrude, who are to be roasted. "

"Sir Robert Chiltern: Do you know, Arthur, I sometimes wish I were you.
Lord Arthur Goring: Do you know, Robert, sometimes I wish you were too. Except that you would probably make something useful out of my life, and that would never do. "

"Lord Caversham: You are 36.
Lord Arthur Goring: Shh! Father! I only admit to 32. "

"Sir Robert Chiltern: I will give you any sum of money you want.
Laura: Even you are not rich enough to buy back your past, Sir Robert. No man is. "

"Lord Caversham: Do you always understand everything you say?
Lord Arthur Goring: Yes... if I listen attentively.
Lord Caversham: Conceited young puppy! "

" Fashion is what one wears oneself. What is unfashionable is what other people wear. Other people are quite dreadful. The only possible society is oneself."

"Morality is simply the attitude we adopt towards people whom we personally dislike."

Missing!

I have heard a lot of people reminisce fondly about their childhood. I, on the other hand, have never had very strong memories of my childhood and consequently never really wished to be there again. Whatever little I remember is also not the most pleasant.

But for the past few days, as I battle withdrawal symptoms after my trip home, I am also silently wishing for a little time travel to find that strong willed, clear headed young adult that I was. The rebel who could see the world in absolutes, who could judge clearly and who knew exactly what she wanted. Where is that girl of 13, or maybe 16, who knew what she wanted in life ? Who could say the right from the wrong and who could take sides without doubt or guilt. 

Where did that girl get mired in the trappings of being an adult ? In the haze of grey that my adult eyes see everywhere? Where every opinion is to be regarded and carefully considered and weighed before being accepted or being put aside as not applicable for your special situation. Where every statement has a caveat or an exception and where every statement has a situation to go with. Where no one is absolutely right or wrong - just what works for them.

For once, I wish for the same clarity and the same conviction as I weigh my options and my choices. I long for that clear headed, little voice in my mind, when I really want to  make some decisions. 

Will I ever find her again or is she lost forever, mired in the neuronal connections of an adult brain ?

Home-coming....

Home. 

There is something about it that draws you closer - friends and family, people known and unknown. It is a familiar place - place where you know things. Where (sometimes agonizingly) things don't change. The familiar sights and sounds - the smells from the kitchen. The crowded streets. The monsoons with rains that never end. The green campus where my heart almost always skips a beat. It's time to meet it all. And goodbye to the kitchen for a few days makes it better still.... ;)

After months of hoping and planning, after weeks of shopping, and after days of back breaking work - that day is almost here.

Now with my bags all packed, I am distracting my mind from the excitement just to numb it a little. A little, not too much. I check and re-check. I weigh the bags over and over. I think and rethink. Am I worried ? Yes. Am I excited ? Extremely. 

There are people with whom my unknown(s) are greater than my known(s) but when they say they want to meet me after all these years, It feels wonderful. It makes you realize that those few conversations, that the afternoon's coffee one day, the random chit chat on the streets - was meaningful. That it left a mark somewhere and that it connected them to you in ways stronger than what a year's absence could tarnish. And now suddenly a 45 day trip that seemed "maybe long" seems like it will just fly away in a blink just as good times always do. There is so much to do and so little time. There is so much to assimilate all with the constant fear that it may not happen for a long time again or perhaps even ever... ?

But for now... I imagine - the hugs, the smiles, and chit-chats, the multiple gallons of coffee that I plan to drown, the hot dosas, the bajjis and bondas in the rain...

Life will be good !

Chasing dreams...

I have often wondered about what people feel when they face imminent death. When they know they have only a certain time to live. Do people really start living only when they know about their death - when they start writing their bucket list... ?

Its true that no one probably thinks they are immortal but we all certainly don't live our lives like we are going to die in a few days. We lead a safe, risk-free life today planning for some fun and adventure tomorrow. 

We work and save all our years hoping that some day in the future, we would have saved enough to actually live the dream. To take the dream vacation we wanted to, to learn the instrument we wanted to, to play what we wanted to and to basically start living the life we wanted to. We do this for so many years though there is nothing that assures us that we will live to see that day. Yet, we choose to wait - to wait for that unknown day, when living the dream would be acceptable. And sometimes, We spend our entire life waiting; so much so that we forget what living is all about. We forget that living is more than just breathing in and out but it is to experience life in its richest glory. We lose the curiosity of childhood, the dreams and idealism that marked adolescence, the spirit of fun and adventure that marked our youth, and the wisdom that came later in life.

 

I have long been this curious cat who wanted to experience everything that she has read or heard about - from the scones that the Famous Five had to the high that adrenaline junkies feel. I have wanted to experience these diverse flavors of life - of things that I had only heard or read or dreamt about. 

And for the past year and a half, since I have embarked on this new journey far from home and everything else familiar, I have done just that. Intentionally or unintentionally, I have been thrown in a sea of unfamiliar and I have just tried to keep my head above the water. I have experienced things that I would not have, back home. I have tried, tested, tasted new things and explored newer territories. I have still not done everything I've wanted to (or everything I could have) but I've done quite a few things. This past year, I have had my highs and lows and while the lows stuck longer in my memory by force of temperament, I am now beginning to appreciate the highs. The past year was great because i have lived like I am going to die in five or six years. When I embarked on this new journey, I had given myself a few years to figure out where I want to take my life (yes, people can still be confused at 29 and 30) ! And then, I had wanted to go back home, to the place that was familiar and was mine. And that looming prospect of limited time, has made me adventurous - has made me grab opportunities that came along as if I won't have long to get them back.

This is one of those opportunities and I am so very glad to have not missed. 

Jumping from 10000 feet off a plane sounds as crazy as it probably is and it was just one of those things that I had dreamed of doing for a long time. I wasn't even sure if I will ever be able to do it... but then, one fine day, there was an opportunity knocking in my inbox and I decided to take the leap. I finally managed to use my ticket to (literal) free-fall (I guess, we all have our metaphorical free falls and I'd rather not discuss them here ;)) today after three months of visualizing it. 

At the end of the experience, the one thing I can say for sure is that, one never feels more alive than when one is closest to death. That is when you see more, you feel more and experience life like never before. Those few seconds of free fall were one of those most vivid moments of my life, when I wanted to distill the whole experience and freeze it in my mind - frame by frame, image by image, so that I can relive it again and again. I have experienced a whole gamut of emotions in those fifteen minutes and never before have I felt so alive. 

When I left home this morning, I had a mild rumble in my stomach suggestive of what the day holds for me. It was a nervous tick where I was curious to experience the thrill but also to see myself experience it. Will I be nervous ? Will I be scared ? Will I be able to jump off a plane at 10000 feet trusting my life in the hands of another ? What will be my reaction if everything goes well ? What if something doesn't ? How much fear do I feel and how do I handle it ? There were a million questions that were going around in my head but the biggest was my fear of fear itself. There is perhaps nothing wrong in being scared, but I had long thought that there are very few things that I am truly scared of and I had convinced myself that this was not one of those. But there was no way I could test myself and today was the day to see myself handle fear, the thrill and adventure. 

When the plane took off on the warm summer morning that today was, it was filled with people and their anxieties. We were surrounded by that nervous excitement that first-timers have when they are doing something this adventurous. Some were quiet, some were chatty, some were excited, and some reflective (perhaps?). Yes, the odds are that nothing will go wrong and that like the hundreds before you and the hundreds after, you too, will enjoy yourself and reach terra-firma safe and sound with the experience of a life time, etched in your memories. But, there is small part of your brain and a huge stack of liability release forms that keep you cognizant of the possibility of things going wrong. And so when at 6000 feet, your instructor asks you what your last words are going to be before you jump, you are forced to stop and think...what if these are your "last words" ? What would you like to tell the people who are waiting for you if you never happen to see them again - those people who don't know of what you are doing and might just get a phone call from a strange land telling them that the world as they knew is lost forever ? And then, at that moment in time, as I stare out of the window and look at the tiny doll-like houses that we have left below, I feel small but brave at the same time. I think of my last words and I say - "I love my life and I love my family". Though, an hour before, the thought of leaving a message like that on video seemed ridiculous, at that moment, seeing world drifting farther and farther away from you, it felt like the only thing I could say. 

And then 'the' moment came. When at 10,000 feet, you sit strapped to your instructor and the door to the airplane opens. Being closest to the door, you walk to it and watch - the world and yourself. You look down to see the whole wide world down below. You have to take a step out of that plane into nothing but thin air and trust nothing but your instructor and your harness. It is scary and there is a moment of uncertainty when you want to hold onto the door for one more minute, one last minute. But then there is this tiny voice in your head that guides you and lets you step forward as if you were just walking as usual and then the magic begins. You have survived fear, now the only question is if you will survive the jump ! ;)

I still don't have the video to know for sure how I did, but what i remember from those moments is this vivid shock of first being thrown into thin air and falling down as if from a giant highrise - staring at the clouds. And then, within a fraction of a second, something happens, and you roll over and you are falling the right way - looking at the world below. Looking at the trees, the hills and the valleys, the lakes and streams, the tiny houses and the world far far below. 

You are just falling but then you raise your arms and you feel like you are flying. Flying towards something beautiful and majestic. Flying with nothing holding you back - with no pain or no fear, with no past or future, with no worries and no apprehensions. You are just living - amazed at what you see below you. Amazed at the wind all around you. You feel the pressure in your ears, the pain beginning in your head, the cold air on your skin, the sound of the wind gushing past you and yet, you can't keep your eyes off the world below you. The world you live in, the world you are a part of. The world that drives you crazy at times but it is also so heart-breakingly beautiful. You can probably not think of anything else for those few seconds, as you fly down like a majestic bird. And then somewhere after what feels like a minute, reality snaps on your heels and you are pulled up into the air. For a second, your heart gives a lurch but you soon realize that your chute has been opened and that the turbulence was only the beginning of a gentle glide down. You then stare at the world becoming more and more recognizable with every passing second. The roads are visible, the houses look more like themselves. The indistinguishable mass of green from the skies turns out to be trees and very soon you can see the cars and the bikes too. The dream is going to end and you will be landing soon, but you are waking up a different person. 

You made it. You jumped off a plane at 10,000 feet and you lived to tell the tale. It was a great experience - perhaps one of those few moments in life when you feel like you were reeeeaaaaally living. 

And while over the past year, I have taken many first steps, they all felt like the part of another of those to-do lists. They felt great but they also made me feel that something was missing. I have missed having my people in those moments - to share the joy or the sadness. But today, for the first time, I felt truly happy and alive. I felt light and strong. I realized that for the past year, I was probably living my dreams and that while it may not be perfect, It has been a great ride. Yes, a few things different would have made some things more wonderful, but things are pretty great even now and I should learn to enjoy them because, for all I know, these might be my last days/words... 

Rabbit hole....

What happens when you lose someone ? When one fine day, you run out of the house, in the middle of your newspaper only to find out that destiny has played its cards and that the one person who made your life liveable is now gone. For ever. Taken into that abyss called time, where nothing penetrates. Where your screams and your tears are futile because what has gone is gone forever. 

Yes, there is grief.  So much, in fact, that it almost swallows your entire being... but sadly it is only almost. Because while the one you loved is gone, you are still left behind, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to find the pieces of your life. Looking for something that will make it all go away, for something that will let you change that one moment in time, when everything fell apart. If only you knew what was coming. You pick the threads of your life, trying to figure out where it began to unravel. You think of all the people who played a part and all those who didn't, in letting your life fall apart. You try and look for reasons to get up every morning because the one who mattered is no longer there. 

You find someone to blame for it all? Or you find someone to grieve with?

How do you grieve your own life ?

Do you bury yourself in work to tire and distract yourself from thinking, because you know that the moment you stop... everything will come back flooding in ? How do you empty your mind, like your life has become, because you are scared of what you find in it ? Do you try and erase every memory of the one you lost because he is everywhere. From those drawings on the wall, to those footprints on the porch, to the clothes in the closet, he is everywhere. How do you forget his smell, his voice or look when he was a part of you... ? How do you erase and wipe out the memories of someone like that ? How do you try and forget them because nothing else and no one else ever lets you... ?

But should you forget ? Should you let go of all those wonderful memories, of all those good things of the past, just because there seems to be no future... ? The memories are the gateway to finding the one you lost - to spending a few more minutes with them, far away from the cruel grasp of reality. Should you let go of that last reprieve too ? Shouldn't you just hold onto the past - to cherish it and protect it... so that at least the memories remain. 

How do you make peace with death of a loved one ? How do you start living again ?

Does the grief ever go away ?

"Becca: Does it ever go away ? 

Nat: No, I don't think it does. Not for me, it hasn't - has gone on for eleven years. It changes though.

Becca: How ? 

Nat: I don't know... the weight of it. I guess ! At some point, it becomes bearable. It turns into something that you crawl out from under and carry around like a brick in your pocket. And you.... you even forget it for a while. But then you reach for whatever reason and - there it is." 

 - Thoughts on the movie Rabbit hole.

Rubberbands...

I have had a few friendships in my lifetime but none like this one. 

Should I even call this a friendship ?

But then what better word do I have for two people who met by chance, enjoyed each other's company, discussed, bickered, joked, rambled and fought - only to start all over again?

But we certainly are strange friends.... to fight like kids at times only to take off from where we left, as if nothing happened in between (well, almost !).

Its a relationship that I fail to understand - for every time I give up and decide to let go of things, you come up with your silly questions and adorable expressions, only to make me forget, if not to forgive.

This relationship has become like a rubberband. We stay in touch, and pull each other's legs only to ultimately snap at each other. And then as the tension diffuses, the friendship is back on track almost as if nothing happened. And the cycle repeats - with no end in sight. But then with every snap and tug, we go closer and closer to the final break, when the bonds that hold us together will be frayed beyond repair and will no longer be able to keep us bound. And I don't want to go to that place where fond memories are permanently replaced by bitter, angry ones. Where talking doesn't come as effortlessly as it does now. Where fear of saying something wrong is stronger than the comfort of silence. 

I have been there and managed to come back - perhaps one too many times. And this constant coil and recoil is wearing me out... I wish there would be an end, one way or the other - this side or the other ! 

Rendezvousing with the past....

Cities are where I have spent the most of my life, intentionally or unintentionally. While I have fond memories of going back to my village, with time I have realized that cities are where I am most comfortable in. Despite all my complaints about that mass of humanity, the confluence of smells, colors and sounds that invariably overwhelm me, I know now that they also give me comfort in familiarity. Having lived in a few cities - Delhi, Bangalore and now San Diego, I have often wondered, which one is home for me - where I grew up, when I found myself or where I built my own home... ? I have often concluded (wrongly perhaps) that the designation of home only went to the one where my family resided but I now realize that it is more complicated than that. 

Cities in many ways are like people - I either like them enough to try and become friends with or just try and stay away. Some cities have grown on me over the years and I have grown out of some others. Delhi is the city which was home for almost a quarter of a century. I have grown with the city and still, when I left, it was a perfunctory goodbye. There was never a sense of departure. It always felt like I will come back to it, but then that's not how things played out and eventually its been a long time that I ve been to that city. And so, in many ways, I grew out of Delhi almost like growing out of a style statement. Never really, acknowledging it but still drifting away from it one day at a time. 

In the vacuum left behind by Delhi and its people, another city and its people found their niche. As a city, it changed a lot during my relatively short stay there and it has grown on me. I found myself in this city through friends, work and family and it is what i call my home today. I long to go back to it but for my people. 

Delhi on the other hand has a life of its own and I realized it when the opportunity of going back to it came up. For some reason, although I have no roots in that city now, I still long to go back; not to meet anyone, but to meet the city itself. Like the thought of meeting an old lover, meeting Delhi again after many years, thrilled me, excited me and terrified me. Imagining the roads, the lanes, the shops and the shopkeepers. Will things still be the same ? If i go back, will I find the road that I used to take to walk back home when i needed to think ? Who will I find in our old house ? Will the old neighbours still be there ? Will the markets still be there ? Will the city remember me now that I have no one there ? I doubt. But then, perhaps the owner of the old saree shop at SN market would remember me for the hours I spent chatting at every visit... ? Perhaps, I will still remember some of the old lanes around the house ? Perhaps, the maze in M. will still be the same and perhaps I will still get lost in the crowds ? 

Even though I have lived in Delhi for the most of my life, I have never known it well enough. Like a young man in love, the city had always revealed itself differently to me. In fact, even today, all i want to do is to go and see it with a new pair of eyes. To see it like the tourists, because there is so much that i still don't know. The narrow lanes of Old Delhi, the smells of paranthas and jalebis wafting from the old gallis, the clothes drying everywhere, the gallis selling books by the dozen - there are many places that I haven't been to and there are many that I don't remember any more. But, now, when I have the chance of visiting it one more time, I want to explore it all over again. I want to revisit the old and I want to explore the new. I want to see the city through the eyes of my camera because somehow that is when the world seems real to me... strange as this may sound, it is true ! The camera let's me see a world that I would have otherwise not seen; it makes me pay attention to colors, contrasts, lights, angles and textures which would have all otherwise escaped my attention. I want to go back and trace some of those old contacts which used to mean so much but to whom I didn't really bid farewell because it never felt necessary. I want to haggle with those store owners just like before and i want to run behind the buses for old times sake...  ;)

Yes, there was so much I never used to like - the dust, the smoke, the paan stains, the smell of dried urine at the corners, the mass of humanity, the rudeness, the wickedness, the leery eyes on the roads.... but despite all that, Delhi beckons me. I want to end this awkward estrangement with the city. I want to meet it one more time, if only to say a final goodbye ! 

It is a city that has grown with me and in it lie buried somewhere my tears and my thoughts and my dreams of idealism. In its air, there is somewhere, the sound of wheezing lungs gasping for air and the laughter of a girl in pain. In its brick walls, there is somewhere, the girl who believed that anything could be done and that people changed. In its sounds, there is somewhere the sound of radical thought as I fought rules and tradition. In its climes, there is my childhood and my youth. 

It sure was a beautiful friendship but with time we've both grown apart, moving our different ways. But I still need to say my final goodbyes ! I still need to preserve snapshots of the friendship that was for the years to come, because, we are both still growing and soon enough, there might be very little that we may even recognize of each other.

Looking forward to meeting you again... "Dilli meri jaan" ! :)