Sunday, August 19, 2007

One step closer to Nirvana

I have journeyed home this weekend. To call it a short trip would be imprudent, as it was almost ephemeral. I write this at home, wishing that my stay could be longer, wishing that I could soak in the scents this wonderful city, my home. But fate and responsibilities are mistresses of mine, who are playing truant today. I shall have to return to my lovely college, to my friends there, to academics. I enjoy all those lovely things, but I can't help but think of Bombay.

Sometimes even tiny associations are greatly fulfilling. Thats the thing with these time compressed relationships. You don't have expectations of them, because you know that parting is a given. But living those moments are like elixirs. Energizing, invigorating you almost. But the harsh wand of reality still waves frantically around that head of yours. And reality hits you as hard as it can.

The trip was lovely. The joy that I could see in my grandmothers' eyes was enough to quell the disappointment of my quiz in Kolkota. But then there was more to follow. Providence had in store for me friends, a mother whose eyes were large with emotion, a father who wished to act, but couldn't contain the joy of his seeing his son again, rapprochements if you so deem to call them, both with myself and others, and conversations with friends that I shall always cherish.

Suddenly, I snap back into reality when I look at the incoherence. I realize the outcome of my nostalgia. But maturity, whether it stems from wisdom, or age, tells me that this emotion is ubiquitous. Even caterpillars ensconced in their cocoons experience it, thanks to memories of crawling along tiny twigs that the butterfly shall not be fortunate to have. This reality bite make me realize that this trip was an awakening to me. And just for that, this trip was priceless.

Bombay is known as the city of dreams. I was dreaming, Bombay awoke me in these three days.

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