Home

 I had a lot of things to do, to enjoy this day. From reading a cheesy romance to watching a thriller on Netflix, I've had it all sorted in my mind. But here we are! It feels like my last day on earth for some weird reason, maybe because it is my last day here. Here, at my parent's place, my home.

Well it's not the first time I'm leaving. I was sent away when I was barely 15. Those early days were the hardest and I would rush back home whenever given a chance. Then came a phase where I preferred staying away, teenage stupidities I tell you. Although my younger used-to-staying-away college self would never admit, it always felt nice to be back home.

If I am so used to this process for the past 10 years, why does this feel different? How is today different? 

Is it because home is not my destination anymore? Is it like a bus stop on a rainy day? Sitting at the bus stop will not lead me anywhere. I've to get on the crowded bus and struggle my way to get a window seat. 

It's not that I'm never going to come home again. But every time departures would be planned before the arrivals, and that I think is unfair to me, and to you. That's how things are.

कुछ है कि जो घर दे नहीं पाता है किसी को 

वर्ना कोई ऐसे तो सफ़र में नहीं रहता

Before I delve deep in the philosophy of the concept of 'home', I have a few cheesy romances to read, thrillers on Netflix to watch, sit for a while on the bus stop until my crowded bus arrives.

Adiós!