Si I’ve just returned from a mini sojourn to Mangalore.
Was asked before I left if I was happy to go home. A very
nonchalant ‘no’ slipped casually. Drama queen has finally grown up. So I
thought. Customary foible ensures I pack my bags just before I leave. Foresight
and planning are unfamiliar cohorts. A comfortable and uneventful journey and
I’m home. Step out of the airport and it rains! In December!! In Mangalore!!!
Seemed for a moment
that the drizzle was deliberate. As the rain fell, the mire washed away and
along with it the earlier nonchalance. I could have burst into lyric and when
the desire was expressed it was squashed. Unceremoniously and emphatically by
Anjali. She’s recuperating with great decorum so I acquiesce.
My five nights and four days were a blur. The commingling
with the besties and chance encounters. The warmth of friends and acquaintances
of the past. The nocturnal drive into abandoned buildings. Reyana quoting Psalm
91 while quaking with fear. Chennu and me yowling in harmony.
Conversations with
Geet and Raji way past the restaurants shut down. The familiar ice creams and
food that I yearn for. The sights, the sounds and the BO I definitely do not
yearn for. The cajoling with tailors and abusing the road hogs. The cacophony of
honking and mindless jay walkers. The roadside rendezvous aka Sam. The ghost of memories prior. The beauty
of a wedding and joy of the celebrations. My dad’s quiet sobs as I bid goodbye.
I aggregate them all and swaddle them. Like abaca fibers they bind the soul. Rejuvenated
refreshed revitalized.
Paradoxically, I’m home. And gossamer strings tug gently…
