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Publication: Multicultural Women & Seniors Services Assocation's Magazine

Home, what an interesting word. One filled with memories of parrot green uniforms and rainy days for me. Whether it was running to the school bus on hot Mumbai mornings, or laughing amongst friends, Mumbai was definitely home. Moving to another city, let alone another country, seemed unthinkable. “Why? There is no reason to,” I’d wonder, “I don’t want to leave home.” But like many other broken desires, I found myself on Cathay Pacific Airlines, eating foreign food, with foreign people, far far away from home.

One afternoon, a few years after I moved, I found myself taking a basic cooking course in high school. My cooking group including a few girls, most of whom I had befriended. We’d talk, cook together and have a good time. There was one girl in the group who was very quiet, she seemed sweet but was shy. For most of the class I did not converse with her beyond the requirements of the course. One day, I was planning to study after school and thought having company would be nice. I casually asked the quiet girl in my group if she wanted to join me in studying, not expecting too enthusiastic a reply. I’m not sure why I asked, we didn’t talk much, but I suppose she seemed sweet enough.

We dragged our heavy bags to the sparsely populated cafeteria where we planned to study. Hours later, we were lost in conversation, speaking as if we had known each other for decades. The quiet girl was in fact a very funny girl from Kohat, who had much in common with me and could she ever talk!

Talking, is exactly what we’ve been doing for the past seven years and sometimes I wonder which one of us is listening! Somehow between our friendship and teenage addictions ranging from pancakes to chocolates and more testing times such as studying all night for a math exam, a beautiful conversation has emerged. A conversation where I feel at ease, as if I’m home.

So maybe home isn’t just where you live, maybe home is just a place where you can be yourself and connect with someone. Maybe the parrot green uniform and the friendships are what actually made Mumbai home for me. Maybe, just maybe then, no matter where I go, with hot summer days or cold winter mornings, I’ll always be home.