When you don’t know how much you miss something.

Did you know that celebrating the new year on January first is completely arbitrary? There is no religious significance, there’s no astrological significance, nor anything to do with seasons or harvest or the moon. It’s just a random date someone chose to have a lark. Ever since I found out, I’ve been wondering what celebrating new year on the 29th of June would be like.

Ignore that. It has nothing to do with the rest of my post. It’s some random piece of information that I wanted to share. Because that’s what I do. Share. Borrowing from the extremely funny Crystal (Hi, Crystal) “…some people overeat, I overshare.”

I’ve started work again. And I positively sparkle! Not at work, that will come later but as a person. I am smiling bigger and better, I can feel the charm oozing out of me and I am on a total high that I am being productive in a sense that doesn’t relate to progeny alone.

Two days ago, I was sitting here at work and listening to all the sounds of the newsroom. People yelling across the hall: to shut pages, to ask if a story was complete, a reporter speaking on phone to a source, a photographer showing his pictures to check if they will do. And I actually felt goosebumps. It’s a far cry from anything in India but at least I am back where I love to be the most.

I have thought long and hard about one question for a few years now. “Where are you from?” I can never answer that question. I feel most at home in Bombay; I was born there and lived some of the best years of my childhood and adulthood there; nowhere else is home for me. Not even where I grew up. But would it seem pretentious to say Bombay is home when I no longer have family there? Also I speak Malayalam fluently, my surname is very obviously Malayalee, I am even married to a Malayalee but I can never bring myself to say I am from Kerala. Because I have never lived there, my mother has never lived there and I have no sense of roots there. But I worry if I come across as someone who is negating her Mallu-ness if I say I am from Bombay. Yes, yes, I care about what people think, sometimes.

So now when I am at work I realise, this is another place I feel very much at home in. The newroom, among stories and sub-editing, among opinionated Bengalis and overfriendly Malayalees. I absolutely love being here. So much so that I don’t miss the kids as much as I thought I would. Maybe it’ll get worse once I get used to this newness but right now, I am truly happy.

One thought on “When you don’t know how much you miss something.

  1. V G

    🙂
    There is a saying.
    Once in Bombay, always in Bombay.
    But trust me, somehow the city's not what it used to be. Still I love it. It's my home too.

    Like

    Reply

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