PERSONAL BLOG 5
Teased By My Bag
Without ringing the doorbell, a place where you can walk in unannounced and without a single care whether you would be welcome or not, is your home.
No matter how much joy it used to give me, the same walk after my marriage is the most painful one.
Although, I was born and raised in Chennai, I was always fascinated by the fact to live in the City of Dreams, Mumbai.
I got that wish come true, with a pinch of salt.
Starting from your dear ones asking: 'when you will come home? ' Or 'how long you plan on staying?' on the day of your arrival itself; weakens you from within.
The question that often comes to mind is, 'Have I become a stranger?' … So much so that my bag smirks at me, when the first thing my mother asks is to keep the important things inside the bag?… as I may forget to pack it, or my father runs around the town keeping in mind of the things I had required on a daily basis when I was at my hometown.
I reminisce those days when I had to pack my bag only if I had to go on a holiday. I never realized that every time I am at my home, my bag reminds me that I am a guest trying to adjust to a new place.
Sure, it's just a two-hour journey from Mumbai to Chennai, but the amount of efforts which goes in scheduling to meeting your parents, relatives, and your friends is a pretty exhausting process.
Firstly, you don't want to decrease the quality time spent with your parents, so you are not in Chennai at all for a few days, except for your parents. This demands me to be cautious on the initial days of where I go and what I do because it's your locality, you walk two steps from your building, you will bump into someone you know!
So, I become a ninja staying alert and having a lookout all the time in the fear of offending someone as they might accuse me of not being in your close-knitted group.
Second, I tend to make a list in my mind of the people who are close and close enough that I can take the liberty to meet them on my next visit.
This is the tricky part.
If one mutual person by slip of the tongue says that they met us, boy, you will have to deal with a new drama of them venting out that they are not of importance at all.
How will one deal with that?
Phew!
Get out my lying list!
My visit to my city becomes like baking a cake.
The first tier is for your parents.
The second tier, for the people you meet, is at the top of your mind.
Finally, for the last one, which is the cherry on top, that comes back to your parents.
In all of this, when I return to my husband's home, I have a sigh of relief which is like a slap on my face as I thought that going home would be like having 'Me Time' or a 'short vacation' but I rather just end up roaming around roads and meeting people.
I guess that's what you call life.
