Much like others I thought of writing a sentimental note on leaving the city for a couple of years. Then the cliched saying that the home is where the heart is reminded me of the diagram of the heart which we used to draw in school, that shattered the concept of heart much popularised by yash Chopra movies. The idea of the auricles and the ventricles and all that complications spoilt the whole romanticism that I was intent on outpouring, Nirupa Roy style, on this writing of mine. Anyway, I guess you've got the hang of it and wish to kill me now.
Since I can remember bits and pieces of my life, the city has never let me be alone. I've found familiarity in the air as I trudged along the city in trams and buses, ferries and boats and trains. I've often felt the confidence that if I ever felt alone, the riverside would be there to make me feel that everything's fine after all. As I'll leave, I won't probably go with too heavy a heart. I'm looking forward with much positive gusto. But I'll probably be leaving with some tinges of a confused soul, a little less dreamy about things I were confident about in the past, and strange nostalgia about places that made some moments of my life breathtakingly beautiful.
Since I can remember bits and pieces of my life, the city has never let me be alone. I've found familiarity in the air as I trudged along the city in trams and buses, ferries and boats and trains. I've often felt the confidence that if I ever felt alone, the riverside would be there to make me feel that everything's fine after all. As I'll leave, I won't probably go with too heavy a heart. I'm looking forward with much positive gusto. But I'll probably be leaving with some tinges of a confused soul, a little less dreamy about things I were confident about in the past, and strange nostalgia about places that made some moments of my life breathtakingly beautiful.