Home is where the heart is
Ever since I left home as a seventeen-year-old, I knew I will not live in a city for over four years. From one city to the other, I kept moving until I reached Bangalore and made it my current home a decade ago.
This city has been mine and I belong here. However, I must confess that sometimes I have the urge to break the jinx and move out to a new life. These feelings have grown stronger over the past one year.
Around this time last year, VT was offered a short-term assignment in Hong Kong. We were not sure of what it will bring to us. Living apart and then the loneliness that accompanies it. I was willing to stay in Bangalore and carry on with my work. It was rational to continue with our respective careers and take as it comes. However, without thinking of funds, we decided one thing. That I would travel twice in these four months and see how the world looks from the island. That meant time offs and some flexible work arrangements and fortunately, things fell into place.
Hong Kong won over my heart, the day I landed. I had read about the humidity, the growing population, and the language barrier. But some things just work. There was newness in the air. The sky was the same but the piece of Earth I stood on was different. People were new but the smiles were familiar. I was lost for directions but the traveler in me did not need any. The city was a complete package, customized for me. With VT around, I was not alone. For being able to work, I was busy with tasks at my hand and then on weekends, we had the choice to see this new world.
I have always believed that the city we live in, shapes us in many ways. Ways that we can’t even imagine. It’s subtle and slow. And only when we are out of the setting is when we feel the change we have been through.
Living in Hong Kong, I met myself. Surprisingly, this time, I was fascinated by many things I had not known about myself. I learnt to appreciate whatever I had with gratitude. For what was missing, I was willing to let go without any qualms. Living out of a suitcase came easy to me and I learnt that I am not a hoarder. Going minimal was not as hard as I had imagined. And I got to know that creating memories is my favorite past time.
Hong Kong wasn’t home but it felt home. And the night before we were to leave, I could not sleep. I was nervous to come back to India. I was not willing to let go of what I had known and experienced over my trips. Frankly speaking, I had changed.
I had made a home in a city that was new and leaving home is never easy. It’s not the amount of time I spent but the quality of it. True that home is where the heart is.
Sharing a personal story today and linking to Yeah Write #283