Last week I returned to Bangalore from Calcutta... to my very familiar but no longer satisfying routine... after spending three and half days at home. It wouldn't be an exaggeration at all to say that these were probably the busiest and most hectic days that I can ever remember... there was simply too much to be done, too many things to be struck off the lists in an impossibly short span of time. Yet when the madness finally subsided, I wasn't really as relieved as I had imagined I would be.
As the flight started making its way out from the fantastic new airport at Calcutta, amidst a gentle yet lashing rain, I struggled to hold back my tears. It wasn't the first time in seven years that I was going back from home or after meeting my parents and extended family and friends. Yet, this time it felt very different.
I had just said goodbye to my city at a time when she was preparing for her resplendent best. Every street, every lane bore signs heralding the arrival of our grandest festival in a few weeks time... a time that Bengalis all over the world long for with much excitement and fervor. It is not a very happy realization that I will not be here during those special five days this year... and probably many years hereafter.
I also knew that somewhere behind the sparkling new facade of the terminal overlooking the runway, my parents were also looking out at my slowly disappearing plane with probably as much emotion, as they waited for theirs. Somehow this compounded my sense of 'going away' significantly.
But what probably made this journey most distinctive from all prior ones was the knowledge that I would be back again in just about two months time for a milestone event and to start a new phase of life. And that this was probably the last time that I am saying goodbye to my family, home and city as the 'old me'... next time, my identity may not change but a lot else will.
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