Homecoming

Homecoming
15th July 2001

Today’s the day that sees the end of two very painful weeks of my live. Two weeks in my life that have been charged with emotion, not all of it happy. At the end of which I have, for the first time in five years, broken down and wept.

I returned home two weeks ago, ostensibly to collect my mark sheets, get them attested, etc. The more obvious reason lay in the fact that home is where the heart is. I desperately wanted to see my family and friends – and, unfortunately, I will be living about 200 kilometres away from them for the better part of two years.

It’s strange, but I didn’t realise how homesick I was till I stepped into the train to Bombay. The entire afternoon had been spent in a state of nervous excitation, something I realise as an afterthought. It was only when the Indrayani pulled out of Pune station that I felt the lump in my throat.

I’ve never realised how peaceful a train journey can be if travelled in absolute solitude. I was able to finish over a hundred pages of Dickens’ classic The Pickwick Papers. I reminisced about fond memories with my friends – too many to name. And I was thinking about Smelly.

The taxi ride home from the station was amazing. There I was, grinning away in the pouring rain, as familiar landmarks appeared out of nowhere. And then the grin nearly split my face when Mom opened the door to my home.

I spent three days in Mumbai. Met up with friends and teachers, got criticised and congratulated, spent time with the family. Met S & A of the troika – couldn’t meet K but spoke to her. It’s amazing, how they’ve been these pillars of support through these initial weeks. They’ve managed to keep me relatively sane.

Returned to Pune in bubbly spirits. For the first time since leaving home, I was feeling like me – the guy who was once a student of Jai Hind College. I had made up my mind to try and talk to Smelly – I asked her out the night I returned. And I was ditched. I decided to try for the last time, and was shot down.

Legs then sent in some fiery emails. Telling – no – ordering me to give Smelly some attitude. And then reinforcing that message with an intense conversation over the phone.

Mom and Dad landed up two days ago. I spent long hours with them discussing the situation with Smelly, among other things. I had given them the full brief for the first time back home. They’d obviously talked about it. Now they agree with Legs’ message. And I’ve begun to implement it in full.

I have just realised how lonely I am in this city. Without my family and friends. Without the love of somebody I thought would be my closest friend here. I haven’t had time to develop a deep, meaningful friendship with anybody else here. It will probably take a long time to materialise. After what’s happened with Smelly, it’ll take a long time for me to trust somebody else. It wouldn’t be nice to be betrayed by another person in this class – we are communication students, after all.

And Mom and Dad have just left today. Lunch was spent with a feeling of loss that gradually grew as their time of departure came closer. And, when I hugged them before they boarded the rickshaw, there were tears in my eyes. I actually stumbled into the wrong building. When I finally reached home, I sat down and wept.

The first thing I’ve done is call up my best friend. Spoke to her for close to twenty minutes, which has geed me up tremendously. I guess the emotional strain is taking its toil. I only hope that my friends remain the pillars they have been.

A thought that struck me some time ago now floods my brain with amazing clarity. C-304, Rajgruha ‘B’, Salunke Vihar Rd., Kondhwa, Pune, will be my home for the next two years. I use the word ‘home’ in the broadest sense possible – as a place where I eat, sleep and work. For, no matter where I go or what I do, 18/1, Strand House, Opp. Strand Cinema, Colaba, Bombay, will always be my home.

And these two weeks have concluded my first homecoming.