All the joy of moving home was quickly replaced with trepidation. After six long years, work and life had found me back in the city I was born and raised in, just as the world was at the brink of a pandemic. Within days, the world shut down.
Although we were comforted by the walls of the home I grew up in, our own house search was stalled, caught between lockdown rules and permissions. Everything we ever owned was languishing in a movement container at the Bombay port. An eerie silence had taken over the city; meeting an old friend was impossible, even punishable by law. One day, I even fell prey to a policeman’s lathi charge for stealing an evening run.
With time, we moved into our own rented home. Large, roomy and nestled among looming palm trees in the heart of Bandra, it was everything we had hoped our new start to be. From a generous work-from-home study to the perfect large kitchen for wholesome meals, and a beautiful view of the rains! Solace in the city, as it continued to be trapped in Covid waves and lockdown regulations, zoom calls, and takeaway boxes.
Eventually, the regulations began to wane. Our home began to fill with friends, old and cherished. The walls began to fill with laughter and memories. We began to revisit jaunts from our youth; dig out the Irani Cafes, dosa joints, bars, and restaurants we had grown up with and hadn’t shut down.
Around then, oddly, I began to gnaw at the void that had started to form. I had only ever lived two of my grown-up years in this city, and began to wonder if we had perhaps, grown-up differently. Conversations with old friends sometimes left me lonely, new friends were hard to find. I quickly outgrew the restaurants I grew up with, my palette had obviously evolved. The bars, by the time they opened them, we had learned to live without. I began to yearn for the cities I had lived in. The compatible company in Singapore, the gardens and music in Bangalore, the neighbourhood addas in Gurgaon. From theatre to the outdoors, and game nights, everything I ever loved, in this city was hard to come by. My husband argued it was the pandemic, and in a sense he was right. Bombay’s old, familiar buzz was missing. As if all of it had turned a little still, except the sea. Seemingly, my only companion.
A year and a half later we moved homes within the city. Conversations with old friends still left me lonely, but I was learning to cherish them as old friends. And, making little steps to find new ones. The city’s buzz and energy were back, the walls were closer in. The sea now surrounded us, the church bells rang through our walls.
I prayed for the Bombay of my grown-up life. The moment I am living in today. I was hoping to feel at home, at home.