I’m on a one-way to ticket to Bombay tomorrow, albeit only to resolve visa issues, but it’s something to think about. It’s been awhile since I’ve had a one-way ticket to anywhere, let alone home. It makes me mull over how terrifyingly hard it is sometimes to be away from home. It reminds me of my last one-way ticket home, the numbingly difficult drive to the airport with several friends sandwiched into a hatchback; we were all humming to leaving on a jet plane. As it turns out, I didn’t end up going back again, at least not for awhile, and certainly not how I hoped to.
My time back in Bombay was laced with a hint of resentment, the city welcomed me like she had let me go, with open arms, with several friends, and several pursuits. But, love had let me go. When I was twenty-three, I wanted desperately to step out into the world, and I found my feet in Gurgaon. Two years later, my seemingly perfect world came crashing down, and I booked a one-way ticket to the only place I knew I could, Bombay, home. She was relentless, but I couldn’t let go. I went onto fuel many a dream in Bombay, but my heart was not at home.
It has taken me another upheaval, and a year and a half in Bangalore to realize what I left behind. But mostly what Bombay had done for me, how the city forever healed me. In turning back to Bombay, I learned what home really is. In her streets, I learned to run. By her sea, I learned to be alone. And in trying to escape her, I learned to make my adult-self fall in love with traveling too.
There I was blaming her for everything that could not be fixed when really, Bombay had taught me everything I ever needed to always feel home.
Oh before the day is over, I want everyone to know I feel alive
And as all weighs I can know it cause I’ve been there once, I’ve been alone
And I needed to grow old
To figure out this world~ Grow Apart, Afrakite