Anicca

 The light is what guides you home, the warmth is what keeps you there. - Ellie Rodriguez

A messy hair bun, a laptop, an overused notepad, a mobile with a Joker back cover, and a blue pen, this has been my life for the last 3 years. No matter where I am, these treasures never leave me to take a hard day alone or to smile with me on the sunny ones.

I am sitting on my bed, thinking about squeezing in some workout (well, thinking about it for the last 5 years, still haven’t started) while a familiar face is smiling at me. Mr. Khan (The King Khan), has been there on my wardrobe for as long as I could remember, and he has never failed to make me feel good about myself, even on those days, when I can’t even get out of bed.

This bed, this wardrobe with Shahrukh pic on it, used to be my home, not my room, but home. However, last few years, there is a thought in the back of my mind, hiding in the dark corner, peeping from time to time.

And finally decided to address it head-on.

Where is my Home?

Since I could remember, the room, I had in our old, dampy, half-broken railways quarter was my world. I had an old radio. I used to listen to Radio-Mirchi nonstop on it. My favorite show was when they used to play old Hindi songs (I forgot the show's name). I loved that tiny corner beside the radio, listening to songs, dreaming of dreams, and hoping for a place of my own to call HOME.

That dampy room was the witness to all my firsts, endless chatter with friends, my first journaling, first love, first heartbreak, my exams, sleepless night, and on and on.

And then the inevitable came, I left my hometown; Kolkata, to pursue my MBA in Hyderabad. I stayed in college hostels, and working women’s hostels, and shared a flat with roommates. But never, ever, I felt at home.

Then I got married, and rented beautiful flats for living, still, what was the thing missing…I still couldn’t figure it out. It’s like…

I have been to the unknown and felt most lost when I reached home.

No matter how comfy the bed is, and how familiar the faces were, I was not home. I have taken deep dives into the darkest corners of my mind, yet could never find an answer to the ever-haunting question…where is home?

I am still looking for my home, and I have no idea….

what is it or where is it or never the less who it is?

Over the years I have realized, my home was that corner beside the old shabby radio, my home was the salty torn bedsheet, the picture of Shahrukh.

What I have been looking for, for the last 13 years is not an address, but rather a warm cozy hug from you (Who are you?) to drench my soul with love.

The teenage girl, in that homey little corner, with stars and moon in her eyes listening to “yeh tera ghar, yeh mera ghar”, will not stop, until she finds her home, no matter where it is or who it is.  

“I am homesick for a place I am not sure ever exists. One where my heart is full. And my soul is understood. I am homesick for you my LOVE”