A Year Later

I can't believe I'm back home for summer already. Seems just like yesterday that I moved to Bombay, this huge, complex, unexplainable city. What started off as a miserable first two months eventually transformed into giving me a second home, people to love and a new sense of self. I never realized how protected I had been (by liberal parents of a single child and a small city where above a certain social strata, everyone knows everyone) till I was forced to step into a world that was unknown in every way. Where it did not matter where I had come from or what I had done in my life or gone through. New meaning to new beginnings.

The year brought along new friends, the kind I am thankful for every morning when I wake up. A new sense of realization as to how much it means to me to do well academically and to remain focused. New confidence and perspective. I now know that you can never predict the end of monsoons in Bombay and that you have to carry a just-in-case hoodie till November. You can't just walk into Leopold at 12 expecting the kitchen to be open. You can't expect to find a place to sit if you try getting on a local train any time past 5:00 pm. That there are two exits to the Churchgate station and you need to take the subway even though its gives the word "scary" new meaning. That sitting at Marine Drive in the middle of the night with your legs swinging over the ledge facing the ocean, with your best friends might be the most beautiful experience in the city. That walks down Carter road with your best friend while eating chocolate and talking about everything under the sky would make your birthday easily the best you've had.

I entered Bombay lost and completely alone, hating every aspect of it. And here I am today, at home, but waiting to go back to the city to which I now belong.

Normal.

I get the urge to write at all the wrong times. In the middle of the night, when my pragmatism (or laziness) tells me to stay put on the bed, halfway through an International Economics class when I should really just be drawing graphs in my notebook or like now, in the middle of my end-trim exams, when I should be studying at 200 miles an hour to make up for lost time (spent idling away in bed). But here I am, writing.
I am hoping the opportunity cost is not as grievous as my mind makes it out to be. The fact that I am writing these words reflects my indifference.
There is no real "point" to this entry. My life has been more or less...normal. Although my definition of that rather subjective concept changes every few months. Right now, normal for me is a mix of a few very beautiful things. Normal is to do well in my academics. After a long time, I am actually slightly (if I may be as brave as to admit) proud of myself for doing quite well in a subject that is not yet a year old for me. Normal is to look forward to going to college, travelling two and a half hours at times, just because I can spend a few amazing hours with my best friend who I am dating (yes I said it. About time! ). I guess the reason I have been so reluctant in saying the "d" word is because it means so little to me.
What I have with the Delhiite goes so so much further than just going out for dinner (something that we have incidentally not done yet, in these last three months) and talking over our food. Normal (with the Delhiite) is to play FIFA in the middle of the night and nearly falling asleep on the couch. Normal is to go to Candies and buy just a huge tray of dessert and eat all of it in one go. Normal is to simultaneously text each other about how sick we feel after all that sugar.Normal is to make long unending lists of "pacts" and adding to it with shameless abandon. Normal is to end up saying the same thing at the same time, at so many different instances, it ceases to surprise. Normal is to have the best conversations over cheese Maggie and apple juice and dragging out the last few mouthfuls to prolong the conversation. Normal is to getting drunk and being happy and doing the craziest things. Normal is being able to argue and make up and realizing how much this has come to mean to us. Normal is to knowing the lyrics to bad jingles and to having different opinions. Normal is to getting changed into a better person, every single day.
After a really poisonous relationship, you fear commitment. You fear getting close to anybody. You pledge to be happy on your own. And just when you feel thats happening, a random 6 foot 3 goofball edges their way into your life and before you know it, you can be normal again.