What is this place we call home?

In the last nine months I've had 5/6 homes. 

1. My original home (the one I was living in before my life took that 360 degree spin) 
2. My friend's home in New York 
3. My parents home in Bangalore
4. My in-between guest house in Bombay 
5. My best friend's house in Bombay 
6. My new house in Bombay.

They say home is where your heart is. 

But that's kind of confusing, isn't it? My heart is here today and somewhere else (and maybe even with someone else) any other day. It's a fickle fellow, that one.

Some people really like the idea of not having a 'home'. They love moving houses, cities, countries; never being in one place for more than a few months. They thrive on the difference in scene. They call it 'exploration'.

It seems more like running away to me. 

Because if I wanted a change of scene I'd take a vacation. For a month, or six.

Then I'd want to come back to my home, my bed, my people, my pets. Things I call my own and people that call me their own.

There's something about belonging that's addictive and endearing :)

My Dumbledore

It feels like I'm in love again.

It's not what you think though. This is a bit unusual. This is the kind of love that is like a feeling of pure inspiration and awe.

I met this lady at a conference/discussion setting in New York and I thought she was strange and eccentric looking; I almost didn't even notice her. She had a quiet but under-the-surface bubbles kind of a demeanor about her, that makes you almost miss noticing her.

Luckily, she wasn't as shortsighted as me. She caught my eye across the room and smiled at me and so I felt compelled to at least say hi (I was feeling peculiarly anti-social on that day I think). We exchanged a quick hello-whereareyoufrom dialogue and then I confessed to her that although I was visiting the city for a short time, I was madly in love with it.

When she said what she said next to me, I instantly knew I wanted to see her again. "New York is like a famous king. And all kinds of people come to his amazing court- entertainers, artists, bankers, lovers, dreamers, actors, bakers... And they put their best foot forward and show the king what they can do best. If the king likes it, he asks the person to stay and show him more. If he doesn't like it, you will have to leave, but you'll surely be back next time, to try to make it in New York's court once again!"

____

And so we met two weeks later, at what has now become "our place". It's a little coffee shop in uptown NY. She took me there when she heard I was writing a novel, because this place is special to writers- people who have written their books there, frame the cover of their book and hang it up on the walls of the cafe. It has covers of books written there for the last fifteen years hung up on its walls. It's quite overwhelming and fascinating at the same time.

And that is exactly how she is. She is overwhelming and fascinating at the same time.

When I decided to get on this journey, with my sabbatical, writing a book, being away from everyone I love in a new city, I didn't realise how much it's going to change my world. I didn't realise that I was walking in to a new phase of my life, transforming and becoming a new me. 

And transformation is always hard. Especially when you're not expecting it. But I really do believe that every five/seven years every one us evolves- with or without knowing it. All of us learn one big lesson, and fight our way against all odds. God knows, those days are hard while you're re-discovering and re-inventing yourself. It's literally like peeling out of your old skin and coming into a new form. Shedding all the rubbish and carrying only what is absolutely needed for the next five/seven year phase.

So it couldn't have been better timing for me to have met this woman. I don't know what I bring to her, but she's helping me through my metamorphsis without even knowing it. At a time when I am searching for my new self, she's showing me the world through her eyes.

I call her my Dumbledore. 

She has that eternal naughty/mysterious/wise twinkle in her eye- like she knows the secret to life, but she won't tell you because she knows that it's much more fun when you discover it on your own. What I also love about her is that she takes pleasure in looking at everything- she epitomizes the phrase 'it's not about the destination, it's about the journey.'

We went to a chapel that she wanted to show me the other day and I was stunned by how much time she spent looking at everything, even though she had been there a million times before. Even for the millionth time, she expressed and felt the fascination for every little thing she was looking at in the chapel. At one point, she made me hug a pillar!

And I realised just hugging a pillar made me feel better- it gave me five minutes to truly understand and appreciate what I was doing. I realised in that moment that I giving to myself and, my, my, what an important lesson to learn!

I understood my next challenge- she told me what to do next without me asking her! I wondered how she even knew, but she answered that too, without my having asked her.

She giggled and casually remarked, "It's like we were given to each other isn't it? Two kindred spirits!"

Oh, she's quite something, my Dumbledore :)

Sixteen things I love about New York.

Sixteen things I love about New York in the sixteen days I've been here:

1. The subway.

2. The tall, tall buildings- it always reminds you that there are things out there that are, and always will be, way bigger than you.

3. The old man who was getting out of the subway who swiped his metro card for me because I was having trouble with mine.

4. The Russian shopkeeper of a seconds store who pronounced my name wierdly (in a nice way) and on learning that I was Indian, broke into song- 'Mera joota hai Japani, ye patloon englishtani, sar pe la topi roosi, phir bhi dil hai hindustani"!

5. The fact that I can sit on a bench in front of the NASDAQ building in Times Square at 3am, in shorts and a tee shirt, and discuss boys and giggle about romance with an old school friend.

6. The amazing clothes that people wear in this city; especially people with the weirdest clothes- people-gazing at it's best!

7. The fact that all dogs are super friendly to each other (I love walking my friends retriever to the dog run!)

8. The cafes.

9. The road-corner kebab thelas.

10. Getting lost in the city!

11. Sitting in central park in rainy and freezing 9 degree weather and watching Bocelli and Tony Bennett sing Sinatra's New York, New York (for free!).

12. The fact that almost everyone I've met is SUPER friendly and for some lovely, strange reason they're all super eager to show me this fabulous city.

13. The fact that I feel safe no matter where I am and what I'm wearing.

14. The fact that very cute guys (imagine Sawyer from Lost) across subway platforms randomly flash me their handsome smiles, wave at me and make me blush.

15. The amazing music scene in this city.

16. The artists in this city- the musicians, the writers, the story tellers, the painters, sculptors, actors- it inspires you so much! 

One of my favourite descriptions of NY so far, "New York is like a famous king. And all kinds of people come to his amazing court- entertainers, artists, bankers, lovers, dreamers, actors...etc. And they put their best foot forward and show the king what they can do best. If the king likes it, he asks the person to stay and show him more. If he doesn't like it, you will have to leave, but you'll surely be back next year, to try to make it in New York's court once again!"

I can't wait to discover more of this amazing city :) 

PS: Attaching a funny picture I found that tells you 16 ways to NOT love NY!

Tall Glass Giants :)

Pit pat, tap tap,

I walk down the dark stairs.

My mind is somewhere else 

Another time, another place.

And then there's a loud rumble,

Like a mellow thunder.

Wind rushes past,

Fast, he's definitely in a hurry. 

I smile,

Because I'm on my way,

I'll be there soon.

I can hardly wait.

Pit pat, tap tap

I climb up the dark stairs.

My mind is somewhere else

Another time, another place.

And then there's light!

From up above

Tall glass giants, chin up,

Looking down sternly,

Still, twinkle in the eye.

I smile,

Because I can hear it

I can smell it.

I'm finally in New York!

NO, IT'S NOT ABOUT THE JOURNEY, IT'S ABOUT THE DESTINATION.

I recently flew to Bombay for a conference. I love these work related trips. I’ve done quite a few of them over the last few years. It lets you travel. It takes you out of your usual work environment, into a newer more refreshing one. New ideas, people, offices etc.

But the most amazing bit? You get to holiday for FREE! Well, not for free exactly but for a few hours here and there spent on doing ‘actual work’, but that’s a smart and fair trade-off I’d say!

Before I say more, I need to be clear about one thing though. I HATE the travel bit. I love getting there and being there. But being on a bus, a plane, a train, a car, a boat… oh my! So very taxing.

Let’s take the ‘easiest’/ quickest way to commute known to man at present. The Aeroplane. This is what a typical airplane journey consists of:
a. You’re never packed on time. If you’re like me, you almost always pack two hours before your airplane departs.

b. The one time you are packed on time, your taxi is ridiculously late.

c. If, like me, you live in a big city, your travel time to the airport is 60 minutes+. At the very least. So you’re best choice is to take an early morning flight, say 8am, to beat the peak hour traffic on the road.

d. So if you did chose this flight, you get there in say 45 mins, but what did you have to sacrifice? Sleep! Ah ha! It means you woke up at 5.30am (even the sun is barely up at that hour!), got ready and left home by 6.15, reached the airport by 7, took an 8am flight and landed at around 10.30am. Sometimes you’re barely even alive by the time you’ve landed.

e. Ok, let’s talk in between. So you got to the airport, waited in that long check in line. Why do I have to check in if I have only one bag? Because you see, I brought shampoo and they’re afraid it could be something chemical that I might use to blow up the flight.

f. And of course not, I may not have the window seat. ‘I’m sorry. Everything is already booked madam.’ Why? By whom?? I got here early didn’t I? And puh-lease, you’re not sorry. I’m pretty sure you hate your job! You’re all dressed and made up at 7am for God’s sake.

g. Fine, so no window. As luck would have it, no aisle either. So you’re stuck in the middle. Great. But what’s next? Security bloody check!

h. This is the part where they frisk you, after you have taken off your watch, jacket, cell phone and even you bloody hair pins! Also, I’m almost always paranoid about my things. The bag goes in and comes out, but your own check takes longer (don’t even get me started on the icky-ness of the frisking). By the time I’m out, my bag has been waiting there for a good five minutes or so. So who is to say that it’s not been whisked off by some klepto?

i. And my God, have you ever had those times when your bag has something you didn’t know it had? Like a lighter that has no gas and doesn’t even belong to you, but was put in with your stuff when you were out drinking with some friends last night? Oh they scare you silly. They keep saying, there definitely is something there, what is it? And for the life of you, you can’t remember! How can you be expected to think so hard at an hour when you’re normally in deep slumber dreaming your last dream?

j. Then there’s the waiting. One hour of waiting for the flight to board you. First, you’re too sleepy to read a book. Second, the seats are too damn uncomfortable, to sleep or to read a book! Third, and definitely the worst, you’re flight is almost always DELAYED. Oh, that dreaded word.

k. So then you board, and behold! You are sitting next to the fattest, smelliest man that burps like clockwork. How are you to survive a trip like this? 2.5 hours of this? No sir!

l. Say you did survive. And the plane ride is almost over. You land. In one piece, thank you. Barely. Then the lines begin. The bee line to get out. Especially with Indians, who have no idea what the word queue means. There is shoving and pushing and unloading bags and holding up everyone behind you. Relax! How does it matter? We’re all getting on the same bus from the plane to the airport!

m. And besides, why rush when all you’re rushing for is the luggage, that simply does not arrive before you do. As a rule. You wait at the carousel, hoping that it comes soon. You wait another ten minutes, with people pushing and shoving to look if their bag has come. I wonder if they’re scared someone might nick their bag too!

But you see, all this is definitely worth it, when you finally get out of the airport, into a taxi and check in to your hotel. The uber comfortable bed and pillow, the snug fit under the comforter, the AC that’s set at just the right temperature, the beautiful room and the pristinely clean bathroom and most of all, the knowledge that you are in a city that is not yours; new things to see, new people to meet, new beers to drink. Just the new air of the new place is all very worth it.

That said, let me just say, I’m still hoping someone will discover teleportation soon.