Home
Sometimes, in the few quiet moments on the sofa after I get back home, I realise it isn't the place I miss but the feeling of being home.
We all make choices that sometimes take us far from home. After years of living in different places, you start to wonder where your true home is.
Is it where you spend 12 hours a day? Is it where your loved ones live? Is it where you know every shop, every neighbour and the local guys?
I've lived in a few places, and I haven't found that feeling everywhere.
These days I shuttle between Chennai and Bengaluru. Chennai is where I work, and Bengaluru is home.
In Chennai I have what I call a room, though it's inside a decent flat in a good location. I use it to sleep, shower and keep my things. The rest of my time goes to the office. I don't dislike the place, but I don't love it either. It's functional.
Every weekend I come "home". Maybe it's Bengaluru's weather, or maybe it's the feeling of coming home that I love. I take public transport back, and I like soaking in the city before I walk through the door.
Once I'm home, I revel in the silence and the familiar sounds of the house. I like not having to go anywhere functional. I like the feeling of being home.