Here I am.

Here I am - this is me.
There's no where else on earth I'd rather be.

Back from holidaying at Kolkatta. A trip made once in every two years to meet my grandparents, this time I felt like a part of the city like never before. Like one amongst the locals. Although I can’t speak Bengali or even understand much, for that matter. But there was an unidentifiable link somewhere. One, that you’d have or, are supposed to have with your birthplace. I suddenly felt like what happened 25 years ago, is having its effect today. My birth in the city of Joy. Born amongst other bong babies, I’ve never really felt the bong connect interfere in my Malayali life. I’ve always been a Mallu and shall continue being one. In fact I’m proud to be one. But I wonder if it’s the bong-mallu similarities that make me feel so, or something else. Perhaps the plain fact that, I wus out on the streets more than ever before. I walked through narrow alleys and puddled footpaths. Dodged between roadside shops. And breathed in the aroma of the kaati rolls by the corner of the streets. Puchkas (bong slang fur paanipuris) and masala chaats were like energisers. Sat by the hugli river. Watched the sunset. Sailed under the howrah bridge.
I’m back home. Or am I? Have I left a part of me back there? Do I go back to collect it? Or just be?