The Sabbatical ends

Between overwhelming farewells and overflowing to-do lists, I forgot that I was leaving. Moving out. Leaving the nest. Again. Unless something goes horribly off-track, I doubt I’m coming back to live here. I’ll come and stay during vacations, but I don’t think I’ll get the chance to live with my parents again. And despite the fact that so much has happened in the last 18 months, the fact remains that right now, seven hours away from taking the train that will take me back to the city I was missing like a phantom limb, I don’t want to go. Suddenly, I don’t know why I ever wanted to live alone. How the hell will I manage everything? My mother’s been teaching me how to cook, and so much can go wrong that I’m worried I might burn my new place down.

But my bags are packed, and my new workplace awaits. From Home 2.0 it’s going to be Delhi 2.0, which I was worried was never going to happen. It’s happening. It’s here. Will this truce continue?