Ever since I left India, there were several bits of moments I wanted to re-live. Moments that were inscribed in my mind as crystal droplets. Nothing great or magnificent, but very subtle things, such as sitting in my favorite coffee shop, drinking my favorite Americano on that chair where I spent countless hours; being with the friends, whose friendship has crossed two decades; and eating in some of my favorite restaurants; sitting on old sofa that has witnessed my growing weight over three decades.
Reaching home what did I find? The old sofa is replaced by a new one, that coffee shop has changed its layout and does not brew the same Americano, those friends are consumed by their family and the 9:00 AM through 10:00 PM office. I did not even try out the restaurants. I guess I would rather cherish the memories than see them dead.
Upon returning, I realized that I cannot relive those moments, as I am not relevant them, as they are to me.
Still wondering where can I find them, how can I relive them? Maybe I will at some point, maybe I won’t. Calcutta and Home were synonymous for these subtleties. I always want them to be intertwined as a Unidimensional construct, but I know better. But I prefer to be ignorant at this moment.
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