I'm not sure where to begin. I guess my own story has gotten the better of me.
Bombay felt like home from day one. Maybe that's because Puji felt like home from the moment we shared that first rickshaw ride from the airport. How Smita woke up from her sleep and invited me to sit by her side, my sleep-deprived head still in subtle shock from the humid mess of cars, scooters and people that was somehow nowhere near as shocking as everyone would have me believe.
From those first moments I fit right in. And I have been fitting in ever since. For me there was no jet lag. No trouble with the food. No moments of panic. No homesickness. No doubts. No regrets.
For the first time in my life I don't feel pressed for time. I don't feel bad for being a lazy bum - even when we don't leave the house before four or five in the afternoon. Everything gets done as it must. Nicely. I don't fight the heat or the honking or the traffic. I don't stare at all the dogs and people sleeping on the side of the road on those late-night drives back from wherever. Or the beggars without arms and legs at the train station; the little girls squatting on the beach to do their business. I don't feel like I have to rush to snap a picture of every last famous building mentioned in the Lonely Planet. I don't feel like a tourist and I don't want to be one either - not in this city anyway. I feel like everyday has somehow been a good day, packed with so many perfect little moments that simply cannot be packaged into neat little sentences; so many beautiful and personal conversations that wouldn't make much sense repeating here. It's only in these moments that I feel the distance. Distance, for sure. But not any loneliness.
Two weeks in and I feel like I have all the time in the world. It's early, I know. This is still the honeymoon phase. I'm forever mindful that tomorrow, everything can change. But today was a good day and tonight has been a good night.
Everything that is out of my control will remain so. And I don't feel like I need anything else right now.
Bombay felt like home from day one. Maybe that's because Puji felt like home from the moment we shared that first rickshaw ride from the airport. How Smita woke up from her sleep and invited me to sit by her side, my sleep-deprived head still in subtle shock from the humid mess of cars, scooters and people that was somehow nowhere near as shocking as everyone would have me believe.
From those first moments I fit right in. And I have been fitting in ever since. For me there was no jet lag. No trouble with the food. No moments of panic. No homesickness. No doubts. No regrets.
For the first time in my life I don't feel pressed for time. I don't feel bad for being a lazy bum - even when we don't leave the house before four or five in the afternoon. Everything gets done as it must. Nicely. I don't fight the heat or the honking or the traffic. I don't stare at all the dogs and people sleeping on the side of the road on those late-night drives back from wherever. Or the beggars without arms and legs at the train station; the little girls squatting on the beach to do their business. I don't feel like I have to rush to snap a picture of every last famous building mentioned in the Lonely Planet. I don't feel like a tourist and I don't want to be one either - not in this city anyway. I feel like everyday has somehow been a good day, packed with so many perfect little moments that simply cannot be packaged into neat little sentences; so many beautiful and personal conversations that wouldn't make much sense repeating here. It's only in these moments that I feel the distance. Distance, for sure. But not any loneliness.
Two weeks in and I feel like I have all the time in the world. It's early, I know. This is still the honeymoon phase. I'm forever mindful that tomorrow, everything can change. But today was a good day and tonight has been a good night.
Everything that is out of my control will remain so. And I don't feel like I need anything else right now.
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