Goodbyes again

My parents are shifting to Bangalore. For good. For the fact that I have been living away from home for more than 10 years... shifting houses still feels alien. The first 18 were spent in Raebareli... a small obscure town in the state of Uttar Pradesh, made famous by politicians and R P Singh. Then a lil time in Delhi, then Lucknow and then Pune and then Mumbai. Of all these places that matter are Raebareli and Mumbai. Raebareli got to see the child, the girl... Mumbai has seen the woman... and I have not missed the family much here because they were just a Volvo and 4 hours away.

I am not sure how its gonna pan out now... that I will be seeing them once in a few months etc... bringing the visits down to some depressing statistic of 3-4 a year. Traditionally, the laws of growing up demand that I should rather be missing them lesser and lesser but our relationships have undergone some really torrid times and things now are taken far less for granted. We value our time together... we talk and laugh. We have so much fun together, it'll give any fun party with friends serious competition.

The person that I am, I don't have an army of friends here and some new gig to go to every now and then. So I am a lil worried about weekends and time by myself. In Chapter 18 of the novel The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde (1854–1900) it is written; "The only horrible thing in the world is ennui, Dorian. That is the one sin for which there is no forgiveness."... and I run the risk of committing this sin over and over again. I dislike the whole emotional experience of boredom. Its exhausting and risky.

Enrolling for weekend belle dancing classes was an attempt to give myself something to do over these scary spans of time. Sometimes I just wanna be like those people who have a gazzilion friends and really like to talk to people rather than put all my eggs in one basket with a fervent hope that it'll turn out just fine. Its really fervent this time.

Sis now being in NZ makes this whole feeling of being scattered and not together rather stark. Today I just wanna go back to that time so many years ago, when she was this small thing following me around everywhere and wanting to do everything like I did, eat only what I eat... and come to me for all confessions of childhood sins... seeking protection.

I might not miss Pune so much. The house there has many many memoeries, but last night Sis and I agreed that it'll never evoke feelings the one in Raebareli still might. She had got an opportunity to go back before she left for NZ. I knew exactly what she meant when she told me that she just stood there on the road staring at that one story house we'd seen built brick by brick... and cried and cried. I know I am going to have the same reaction if I ever go back. If. It'll take a long time before I can grow that kind of roots anywhere else.

Hmmm. Seems I am nostalgic. And looks like the mood is here to stay. I will be helping Mom n Dad shift... but they will be all packed up and ready to move by the time I get there. It hurts to know that many things like how the drawing room looked in the afternoon with sunlight streaming through the drapes... the chirping of the birds at sunset... Sis's room... the view from the window... the balcony and us standing there staring at the clouds is all only in the memory now. It'll all be naked and empty when I get there... without the paintings and splashes of color. I think I could do with a warm hug right now.