#mumbai life
Days have passed, so have months.
At some point, during that time, my mind has been a blank piece of sheet, and my thoughts flowing like the ink of a broken pen.
I, and many here and there - probably, felt lost and lonely.
But everything is ephemeral, even these temporary feelings, that keep going and knocking back on my door, sometimes.
Sometimes, coming inside like a storm we try to protect ourselves from,
sometimes we decide to let them in, even welcoming with a smile, curious to learn more.
Some people call it growth, some healing, or just life.
Isn’t that life just a perpetual stream of changes and adaptations, to circumstances, people, and ourselves anyway.
Self portrait in Mumbai. May 2020
Waise bhi,
kahan fursat hua karti thi loggo ke paas
Ek dusre ke liye.
You are here
But I feel
Your absence
Words are void out there
I rather prefer
Listen to the silence
Flowing thoughts : you knew I missed you Bombay, didn’t you? (Part I)
I carried my stubborness and some wishes in my bag, on my way back to Bombay. Some places I wanted to go back to, memories I wanted to relive. Some faces I wanted to see again, some laughers I wanted to hear once more. Eager to explore around, curious about the new souls that will cross my path.
By the time I landed, I already had that feeling, as usual, the feeling of being Home. From shopping bindis and jhumke, to the walks and sunsets at Juhu, the conversations with the aunties and the drives with that one. The horns of the rikshaws in the traffic jam, the smell of the food stalls, the carefree crowd and the kids playing in the streets. And with that smile, on my face, witnessing the scene. Nevertheless, you knew I missed you Bombay, didn’t you?
Bombay | April 20’
Ig : @miraakle_
Mumbai, may 2020.
Ig : miraakle_
Zara aana
yahan mere pass,
beth te hain.
Tum aur main
aur do cup chai.
Kuch kahaniyan sunaungi,
kuch tumhari sunungi.
Zara aana
yahan mere pass,
Guzarte hain kuch paal.
in guzre hue paal ka sukoon
mumbai | may 20
I remember, few days back, that smell of food hitting my sense, reminding me a specific restaurant we use to go with my mom back home. I then remembered, those other places we use to go with my friends, those moments. Then I felt missing all this, and again, remembered, that other feeling of emptiness that hunts me when I am in Paris. I have been thinking, since time is given to us, about it. How, back there, I will feel a hole again, the feeling of not belonging, of not being at the right place.
Thinking of what actually “Home” means. I heard sometimes, someone can provide you that feeling, just some place. Is it where you were born and live, where you have your routine. Is it where your loved ones are. I feel, home is here for me. It is familiar. Not being a total stranger to that land and these souls. My heart probably recognized it as Home even before having spent much time here. It is just where I feel whole, and complete. Home is just that.
