Home. What does it even mean?
Is it a place, a feeling, people or something else?
I never thought about it, until I had to leave for college to Mumbai.
I guess home is just a word for comfort place, where you can somehow neglect your thoughts and be there loosening up.
After coming here and surviving for a few months, I have various opinions about this lively city.
With ambitious people running all around 24×7, you can not stay at your pace here. Like the local train, you just hop on, you have to be attentive and fast.
Maybe, I don’t know.
But wait, trains, it’s so weirdly extraordinary. For a moment between stations, 60-70 people join you for a journey where you are bound to stand or sit and just look out or just get lost in your thoughts.
A lot happens in locals every day.
But there are both extremes in this city. The rich are very rich and really live a life which is very different from every day mofo. Like me. Okay.
Speaking your stuff here and there, if you notice, people are high most of the time.
You can spend hours at the marine drive and still it’s less. It’s easy to glimpse the area at once but when you sit to capture the essence, you’ll get lost in thoughts.
I haven’t been in a rush, other than in Mumbai, but I love it every day here. There are so many people with different stories here.
It’s like, some wants sympathy, some need help and some are just trying to insert a perception in your mind because they want to sell you something.
In my short 6 months in this city, a lot of people helped me adjusting here and I am really really thankful of it!
What is home?
I guess I am figuring it out.
I have many more things to say, but I think I’ll wait for the conclusions.
Mumbai, the city of dreams, because if you want to and really want to do something, nothing can stop you here.
Until next time, see ya.