Bombay, April 18, some time
This city is my consolation prize. If not home, here is where I’d rather be.
Spending time with a few old friends and some good old memories over some rosé wine and some rather Bengali Chinese (which isn’t very uncommon in the city) I was at peace.
It’s ironic; this city rejects and embraces me all at once. I cannot erase it from my wish list and neither can I go back on a whim. And yet, every time you ask me, this is the place I want to be. If not home.
J says I should come back. And I miss him tremendously. He and I share this strange understanding. We never tread each other’s path and yet, stay connected and concerned. Life has changed for both of us and we, as people, have changed too. But that ‘us’ has remained, the way it used to be.
It was so nice seeing R after so long. I really like the way she’s found her footing. And I have seen her struggles and shared some of the same pain. We’ve both fought for something that was so intangible that often, we’d lose track of what is it that we were fighting for. We’ve given up and regained our trial.
It was nearly a two-hour drive from Cuffe Parade to Goregaon where R was staying. I fell in love with her apartment instantly. There’s nothing fake in her welcome and she didn’t treat me like a guest. What more could I ask for?
I didn’t shop at all. In fact, I barely went out. I just spent time looking out her large open windows, wishing that nothing would ever change. Not in soul at least. I am so against this whole transformation that the spirit of every individual goes through. I think R loves me just the way I am. The way I used to be nearly 12 years ago when we met in college.
Something happens to me when I come here. I can’t explain that something. But the best part is I never really have to; at least to the people who matter.
And I would rather be with the people who matter. If not home.