“There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you have altered.” – Nelson Mandela
We cross barriers, borders and lives. We aspire to being worldly travellers and knowers, but we still permit attachment to things that take us back to the start, Coldplay style. Home clearly means different things to different people. Some see it as a place, some see it as a person, some see it as a movie or a photograph, or even as a memory. I think home is more intangible than that, something you can only feel. I personally don’t have a physical home; I have each foot in a different place.
Some want to leave their physical home because they never felt like home there. Others want to leave because they believe that meeting a certain person or having a certain experience, which isn’t where they are now, will lead them to that sense of home. I personally always wanted to leave, simply because I aspired to make my physical home my metaphorical one. I never really found absolute comfort in most things or people I experienced in Bombay. Truthfully, I never felt devastatingly sad at the thought of leaving. Instead, this aspiration towards that sense of homecoming came bubbling out. I wanted to leave so I could come back and truly mean it when I say “I’ve missed being here.”
You know what I mean, right? When you enter a rut; same old places, same old faces, no inspiration; there really isn’t a lot to apply your intellectual capabilities to. An immersive experience of another culture was an eye-opener I definitely didn’t see coming, and I can’t stop craving more. I crave the different perspectives there are to encounter, the beauty there’s left to see. I crave the feeling of returning somewhere, and finding salvation in self-evaluation. I crave the knowledge these travels will lead me to, the biases they would inculcate or deplete.
And though this won’t really fix the world up for anybody, it starts with one person and all that, right?