Can home be more than just one place?

I am currently 27 years old and will turn a year older in August this year. In the short life I have lived so far, I can safely say that I have lived in 7 cities. New York coming in as the 8th. If you do the math, that’s almost a new city every 4-5 years. If I didn’t change cities, I changed schools. I wasn’t a problematic child, I was every teacher’s delight. My fault was that I was the classic older child, which made me the guinea pig for most of my parents’ parenting experiments. The problem was that nobody could tell. I was good at my studies, excelled at extra-curriculars. Some teachers would be concerned that I would have difficulties in catching up on missed curriculum, and my mother would tell them on their faces that her daughter won’t. And she was right, I often finished top 5 of my class. One time, I even stood 1st. It is a miracle, I think. A miracle that despite all these changes, I turned out fine.

After all these years- I finally feel a sense of home in a land I never thought I would set foot in. In a city- which a friend captured almost perfectly- that clicked. Within a week of moving to New York, I knew this city understood me in ways I thought nobody could. There was a sense of familiarity, the familiarity I found back in India. In Mumbai. Anyone who has lived in these cities can tell you how they are mirror images of each other- just on the opposite sides of the world. Somehow, being miles apart from the city I was born in, I felt peace in one of the most chaotic cities in the world. Both New York and Mumbai are not for beginners, and yet I felt like I was made for these cities.

It’s ironic though, that now that I feel at home, I shouldn't be thinking of the years I spent moving around. But on a random Tuesday morning, I find myself aching for all the cities I've lived in. I was too young for Kandla (a town in Gujarat where my parents were posted for two years until my brother was born). For the next two years, we stayed in Mumbai. A 5-year-old when we moved to Vasco Da Gama, Goa. Hotel Meghdoot, Kashi Dairy, Jai Ambe Snacks and Sweets, Hotel Annapoorna- a small ice cream shop in the main market, where every alternate night my father would take my brother and me to buy us ice creams. It was our thing. I still remember that uncle’s face. We frequented that place so often, he knew my order. A Chocolate Frostick. Having ice cream at the shop wasn't enough; we would bring some home, too. If it were summertime, my father would chop fresh mangoes for us and serve them with vanilla ice cream. Or make a mango milkshake. Even now, that’s the only way I like to have mangoes. I am sure my father would have loved the United States for worshipping Mango Lassi the way he used to.

When I was 7, we moved back to Mumbai and stayed here until I was 17. If things weren't the way they turned out to be, we would have been based in some North Indian city- probably Chandigarh or New Delhi. But life turned out very differently, and my mother decided that she wanted to be close to her sister in Chennai. Around the same time, I just started college in Ahmedabad. Ahmedabad was a beautiful city. It gave me everything- the best people, the best food, and yet somehow I always felt like I never belonged there. I had everything- no bad experiences, no roommate drama- in fact, quite the opposite. My roommate was a sweetheart who took care of me like her younger sister every time I fell sick. I had amazing friends, a decent life, and I was honestly not bad at what I was doing. I cleared 6/7 of the design college entrance exams (yes, they have that, and they too are super competitive), so I knew I wasn't bad at it. Everything was perfect. Except that I kept falling sick. Admitted to the hospital, kind of sick. I had read somewhere that your body will always tell you if you’re supposed to be at a place or with someone. I knew I wasn’t meant for design school- I was unhappy and knew I couldn’t do it for the rest of my life. My mother saw that. So just two months after turning 18, I decided to drop out of college. Was it scary? I still cannot bring myself to verbalize those times. The universe kept throwing in challenges to test whether it was something I truly wanted. It wasn’t easy. My friends called me foolish. Some of my friends thought I was finally reacting to my father’s death. My grandparents were worried.  But 10 years later, I know I made the right choice. So now, every time I find myself doubting something, I think of the 18-year-old me in Ahmedabad. Who didn't know where she would belong but knew just enough that it wasn't here. This city taught me that just because something is right, it doesn't mean it will feel right. Ahmedabad was the detour that put me onto the path to where I was meant to be.

By the time I dropped out, my family was beginning to settle in Chennai. I had always visited Chennai as a kid since my mother grew up there. Moving to Chennai felt like a meditation retreat. The years leading up to our move were tumultuous, to say the least. But the city was slow in a way our nervous systems weren't wired for, which was just what it had needed all these years. Living in Mumbai is very rewarding, but it does take a lot from you, and by that time, none of us had it in us to be taken from. We needed to be taken care of. Chennai gave us that. A place to finally take that sigh of relief after you have finished the last lap of a run. It took us months to settle in, but when we did, I think we had forgotten what peace felt like. Every weekend, we would end up visiting my aunt and my cousins and hang out with my nieces. The most beautiful thing about it, was the comfort. No formalities, no planning and scheduling. Just telling each other we’re on our way to your house- see you. Their presence felt like a giant hug after a long exhausting day, and it fixed me in a way I didn’t realize. Some people are like that, they fix things they never broke. My perima, her daughter, and their kids are those people. I do know now that if I were to retire, I would start my life post-retirement in Chennai. I’ll finally get to practice my Tamil, resume those morning walks at Bessy and breakfast at Vishranthi with a sipping hot cup of filter coffee. I wish I could retire now. Chennai embraced me when I was frankly, at one of the lowest points in my life, and for that, I will hold her dearly. I spent a full year living in Chennai until I got into VIT in 2016. A place where I spent the next 4 years of my life.