It was a good feeling going back to the department where I did my masters degree, after so many days. I was happy to see my old friends and teachers and also happy to be back at a place where I have spent so much time, learned so many things and have so many lovely memories. The canteen, the museum hall, the lab where I worked so much, all had a familiar feel about them. It was pleasant to “talk science” after such a long time and not feel like a geek or a nerd, just like it was a way of life.
At the same time though, I felt that I made a good decision moving on, although I am poorer, I am happier. I am doing something unique and am trying to make it as sustainable and as big as possible. Maybe in a few months I will need to get a job because I am not making money, but it does not matter right now. I should do the best I can in the time I can afford.
Most of the last six months have been a re discovery of my life, learning new things and weighing new perspectives. Yesterday was the first time in a long time where I actually did not consider anything or think about anything. I was back at a place which was my academic and career comfort zone for so many years. And it was a day out for me- mentally, for the first time in six months after so many of new experiences and lessons.
So I am back home now, running on the last few drops of petrol in my tank but it has been an amazing ride. The best feeling happened at night as I took the bus home for the first time. As I walked back home from the bus stand it was eleven at night and the town had mostly gone to sleep. The temple was in the background, looming over the town from the top of the mountain. On both sides of the road were new buildings interspersed with old ones that were in a state of disrepair.
Knowing the history of this place, I looked at the buildings with a sentimental energy inside of me, wishing that the magical things I knew and read about this place would appear, and l happened- right there before me.
The modern buildings disappeared and the old ones regained their lost splendour, the street lamps went out, old oil lamps and lanterns lit up the place to be as bright as day. Songs were playing in the background, dancers were dancing- beautiful muralis singing praises of their king. Housewives dressed splendidly in yellow navaris (nine yard sarees) and gold ornaments were going about their work. It was a festival of joy. Drums were beating, horses were neighing and everyone was joyful because a great happiness had come upon them.
Soldiers in their magnificent uniforms and swords drawn, working men in the dhotis, shepherds from out of town with their turbans and magnificent moushtaches, their daughters giggling, smiling ever so prettily and taking in the beautiful sights of the town, everyone was so happy. I wondered why.
Then I realised this is my dream. This is my town and my people. Even if I am a common person in the world, I will always have this. My joy of returning home erupts out in the joy displayed by my fantasies, played out live before me, with all the colour and music of a Sanjay Leela Bhansali Bollywood Historic Musical extravaganza.
They were happy, because the dreamer who dreamed them up, was coming home.
And boy I am glad to be back. There is no place like home