For though my lips may breathe adieu, I cannot think the thing farewell.
Journeys have always intrigued me ...more so what happens just before one is undertaken, especially when one is returning from home. Piles of luggage and then some more to be packed, mom's love overflowing in the shape of home made delicacies which she never seems to think are enough for the already phalta-phulta kiddo...scores of people coming to wish you the best of journey and at the same time complaining that you should have stayed longer!!! and that last minute shopping which is the result of your continued procastination till the time you didn't really have an option anymore. All those chores still left resulting from the same quality of yours that are again postponed for a future trip home...you tend to bear it all, take them in your stride...those stipulations put by granny about the auspicious time of departure which you must adhere to because tuesday is not good and saturday sounds evil ;)
In this very context Railway stations, Bus stands, taxi stands and for that matter our own doorways stand testimony to many a scene straight out of a bollywood movie...with the father standing supervising that all the luggage has been counted, re counted and kept properly and the conveyance all ready to depart, relatives assembling because this too is an occasion in itself, children squealing and running around the mounted pile of luggage and being happy for something which remains a secret...maybe someone is happy that you are leaving ;) (such evil kids ...grrrrr..)...your mother holding her tears back somehow for that oppurtune moment when they are strictly supposed to roll, at the same time rolling out the list of endless advices the most important being to take care of your luggage and not to talk to strangers... In the midst of this whole hum drum of activity are you...who is almost in a kind of a bubble not really in control of whatever is happening around but who is just flowing, or flying where ever the wind takes you, where ever the push sends you....all the while calculating that hopefully you haven't left anything behind, checking and going through the list so that you can remind yourself of all the things packed, and still getting uneasy with the feeling that there is something you can't put your finger on which seems to have been left behind (and it actually has been ;) )...and somewhere in the deepest of your thoughts is the feeling of intense sadness which hovers around you, when you leave home, which you have deftly been hiding so that your mother doesn't go weak...so that your father doesn't feel pained and can wear the mask of being strong in the face of his lil kid going away... you get that feeling don't you of being like a child suddenly being lost in the mob ... the sadness which you hide not only to be strong for your parents but also for your own sake because you are the one who is the most fragile....
But then the question remains - who is in a worse state? The one who leaves or the one left behind? I could never reach a conclusion and may never be able to becuase we all have been on both sides of the fence..haven't we?
