Home is but a state of mind
As much as the extra space it might give you, sitting in the first seat of the economy class in an airplane is not a good idea because of the following reasons:
1) you are almost always sitting next to a mother, her forever crying unintentionally attention seeking baby and the ignored intentionally attention seeking elder brother/sister.
2) you have a first hand view of the business class section; its just a curtain away!
and looking at those people being served fresh coconut water and watermelon juice is a schmancy glass and the minute he crosses the curtain ,im given a plastic bottle of lemon juice. uff..i wanted that watermelon juice, and now fat, balding uncle gets to have it.
Anyhoo, im diverting from the point. The point was that, i was going back home, a shore quite far away from India. a 3 hour journey. I was born and brought up in D. But as I was reaching D, I realized this place wasn’t home anymore. I didn’t want to come back to India too. but that we’ll concentrate on that later. It is so sad, that the place I was born in, spent 18 years of my life in, wasn’t home anymore. Which brings me to this title. Home is but a state of mind. When do I feel at home?
*When Me and best friend S go for Paani puri (extra theeka) at our chaat hub which then becomes a chaat marathon and 2 hours of conversation.
* When I’m on a long distant call with my high school best friend (I sound twelve now) N. Its funny how I see so many friends of mine refer to their school friends as old friends. Me and N know each other from school, talk to each other atleast 5 days a week since. Its been 4 years and we still talk, she’s my ageless friend.
* When I’m drinking with the gang. We burn the coal, light the hookah, use only a particular flavor, drink only a particular drink, and only a particular guy makes the drinks and we talk about everything possible. There is no narrowing down the things we talk of. That, is home.
* When I’m out for the night with my girls. We don’t meet too often, but when we do, we paint the town red. That familiar feeling of fun, comfort and warmth. Isn’t that how some people describe home?
*When I’m in the family car, with the family, when each one of us are either zoned out or the usual family topics are spoken about or the fights happen. ah, home.