Each time I meet my friends from back home (Chennai), I make the grave mistake of saying out loud, my honest thoughts about the city. It leaves them perplexed and I don’t blame them.
I grew up there. 20 years. It is a LONG time. And yet, I talk about it like a cranky tourist – complaining about how the weather makes the city unbearable. About how un-pretty I find the city. About rooftop cafes being a scam on most days. And how detached I am from it. And this, I think, pisses them off a little more. When I think about it, these do seem like stupid, insignificant reasons. I don’t deny that.
What I do not talk about is how that city has never felt like home to me. Not just felt, but how it was never home. For 20 years, I was a guest. A guest in someone else’s space. The purple room I called my own was lent to me. (Oh, I always thought I’d have a blog called The Purple Room because I think I wrote a lot while I was there. And didn’t feel heard for the longest time. Sigh.)
But when I think about Chennai, I also think about the moments I felt joyful. Eco park runs, Jay’s terrace (and now a bench), N’s home, PC, R’s terrace, Marina, Bessy – each one a place I went to, craving home. Each one, also temporary. Jay’s terrace made this list because Jay was there. Tomorrow, if she’s living in a small cottage in Himachal, that will be home. N’s home is home because of N. R’s terrace makes this list because I spent some of the best evenings with the best people there. ‘Home’ moves with them.
Now, the thing is, when you move cities, you leave one home to build another. In my case, I was just leaving a city. A city I didn’t like too much anyway. I talk about Bangalore with a smile on my face because it is the first time I have a door I can shut, on my own terms. I have a space I call my own. A space I’m welcomed in. Yes, the weather’s great, there’s good beer, and cafes are cute, but these are just added benefits. I talk about it because it is more home than Chennai could’ve ever been.
Now that I am here, I think about where next. I think about how I’ve found it difficult to “decorate” my room. About adding any piece of furniture that makes it more permanent than it is (even though I badly need a tiny bookshelf). I think I’m still looking for something. I like this chase. I like knowing that I’ll be in a different city tomorrow. And the day after that. I like not knowing where I will be a year from today. Maybe, I’m afraid to call one place home. Maybe I don’t want to. I can’t tell yet.
But, what I do know is, I’m being rational (maybe harsh, but rational) when I say I feel nothing for Chennai. I only care about the people I met while I was there. And that has nothing to do with the city.
So, that.
(This is an underwhelming ending to what started as a strongly-felt letter. I’ve always struggled to end my pieces well. So, I will let this be here. Maybe even revisit it. For now, I hope I’ve cleared some bit of the confusion I’ve caused. J, N, R, H, K, T and some more of you, am I now allowed to make all the jokes I want?)
Until next time,
Hugs and Love,
Chand.