home.

the wind blows into the room, the curtain billow and swell. i remeber home. the feeling of that old familiarity. of course nothing si the same when i go home. everyones changing, the city grows and crowds. layers of dust get thicker. people go on without me, im inexplicably cut out from their lives and remain a person from the past who calls every once in a while. i could just as well be a figment of over-imagination or a mind creation on some drunk/stoned night. but i wish to be back home, just for a little while. so i can smell that air and know exactly which season it is, so grime can feel strangly delightful and the wind can go through my hair when im on the bike.


i wish to be around people who are not scared of me and of whom i am not scared of. i wish to walk on roads i grew up on, to eat croissants at german bakery, beef stroganoff at prems, banana pancakes at that cute plce just off koregaon park. that bustle of the cars and rickshaws and people and scooters, honking like rude fucking pigs.


i wouldnt go back to stay. maybe in the future, who is to say? but right now, no. when youre in a a better place you stay put, in spite of the monotony, the blandness and the fucking accent barrier (if one could call it that). but just to feel oddly in place.


its not heavy nostalgia that snakes in your stomach. its a longing for a small gap in my daily life, to just go back home. because no matter how dirty it gets, or if people dont remember my names, or if life goes on or falls short, no matter how many buildings are built or cars there are on the road, home will remain home. always.