Home.

I was thinking of something to post.

And I found this. Something I wrote after my first trip to India with my mum when I was 15. Prior to that we had been to Sri Lanka. The monsoons began as we were travelling home in a little rickshaw, that promptly collected puddles of water. The whole right side of my body became drenched and the intensity of the heat finally cooled down. It was July, and we were towards the end of one of the most intense months I have ever experienced. Four years later and a part of me aches for a place I barely know. I guess that's a sense of belonging. As nomadic as my life has been, sometimes I wonder if there's a Motherland to which I belong. Some small corner where I can house a part of my soul. Here it is, entitled Monsoons.

The beauty of being drenched
In endless rain
In the midst of a hot indian sumer

In a little rickshaw
Threatening to fall to pieces
In the middle of the city of juxtaposition

Cold water seeps
through a cottong sari, clinging to
The girl, clinging to the boy on the scooter


Having lived away from home for a while now, one of the things I most miss are Saturdays. I never studied on Saturdays. I never did anything. I'd go to dance class early in the morning, and spend the rest of the day in a salwar kameez, reading newspapers, watching my mum cook/study, going for long walks, buying groceries, watching hindi movies and listening to music. I think for me, that's Home.

And now for your listening pleasure, some A.R. Rahman. A song he composed long before the success of Slumdog Millionare. Featuring Shah Rukk Khan, the nation's darling. Yeh Jo Des Hai Tera. Enjoy :)