The tale of three suburbs has rather painful intermissions. They involve an upwelling of emotions that are better locked away and stored safely at the bottom of the ocean. They involve plenty of smoky eyes threatening to breach and then a lot cajoling oneself that something better lies in store for the future. After countless pep-talking soliloquies, one manages to put up a brave front, only to find it crumbling within seconds of hearing the voices of those who will not be there to see, or feel the comforting touch of, for a while to come. A while, that has in the past, proved itself to be fleeting; but at the present moment seems like eternity. “This too shall pass, and we’ll all return to the warm company of each other soon”, says the voice of reason. The voice of reason is right, but fails to strike a chord with every other nerve in the body that wants to bolt in the opposite direction. Some choices in life are difficult, and have to be made; for a future that is uncertain, but is conceivably better; for a future that may not exist, but holds a lot of promise. And such a choice has been made. Hum bhi chal diye.
Why do I call my story thus? The three suburbs are what my life revolves around, but it’s the fourth, halfway around the world that always manages to drag me away.
