HOMECOMING

My current read is a book by a friend on the struggle of the Tibetans for their homeland, their feeling of being uprooted, their terrible longing for their hearth and ‘home’. This urge ‘to belong’ is so predominant in human beings- the urge to belong to a place, the urge to be rooted emotionally to some physical space. Being the child of a government servant, I have never had the leisure to develop a sense of belonging to a particular place. Regular transfers, change of government quarters and rented residences have ensured that there is hardly any place I could call my own. I cannot return back to the lawn I had my first fall, cannot return back to the room where I went through the sweet agony of my first crush, cannot go back to the living room where we celebrated the little joys of life. Such has been my loss..there is just no physical space to identify with oneself..No favourite corner of the house to rush to in moments of glee or sadness..no place which still retains the fragrance of your past. Eventually, I moved to a university in the country’s capital which was a beautiful home away from home for six odd years. After leading a life of a Bedouin for so long, it was immensely gratifying to stay put at one place, develop roots, make friends and identify with the surroundings. It has been nearly eight years that I have been out of the university, but still, the very memory of it, brings a lot of comfort and a queer sense of solace.

Personal issues and conflicts in profession had taken a heavy toll on me, of late, and I was craving for a break to sort myself out. And, I realized that other than my alma mater , I had no place to slink to, to lick my wounds, to retrospect and to enjoy a few stolen moments of quietude. I did go, with loads of trepidation for I had not been back at the campus since long. I don’t know what I expected when I drove down there; I no longer knew a soul at the campus and I had heard from friends and erstwhile classmates about the massive changes in the university and how it wore a new look. Yes, at first glance, I must say it had changed, renovations and cosmetic makeover had taken care of the pajama casualness of the campus but, something about the air was still so much the same. I sat outside my erstwhile hostel nursing a small snack watching life drift by. Students going to and fro to the library, the mangy mongrel trying to catch the warmth of the wintry sun, the eccentric dhobi mumbling away., the protracted chai sessions in the nearby benches..everything was still like it had always been. the situations were all frozen in a frame, the characters different,though. After an old hostel mess worker recognized me and started making fond enquiries, I picked up courage to venture into the hostel where I had stayed for half a dozen years. The place where I had made friends, nurtured grandiose dreams, had had loads of fun, had gone through bittersweet moments of stress…it all stood before me. Wandering through the corridors brought back a bouquet of happy memories, memories of love, affection shared with precious people I had come to know and cherish. The days gone by fleeted past like a vivid movie with all emotions intact. At last, it was time to leave. I walked up to the gate and lurched suddenly. I had lurched at this gate every single day of the six years spent and all my friends used to have a hearty laugh whenever it happened. The same, unexpected motion and subsequent reverberation of the same laughter and teasing in my ears unlocked a tsunami of emotions. And..the tears came on!

A homecoming it was, to relive the past, to draw strength from the carefree, happy days of the past in order to build up the strength and fortitude to face the stress of the mundane of the present and future.