Heart broken

I was 17 and done with school. I had to chose a major and chose a school. The major, I was not confused about because I followed what my favourite teacher once told me. He told me to follow my heart and do something I enjoyed. I knew then that journalism was my calling. But where? I was confused. I knew I wanted to get away from the comfort of my home so that I could test myself without my parents around. On a whim, I decided to shift to Mumbai for my studies.

I am a very impulsive person and so it was a quick decision and even quicker execution. I was on the plane the next week. All my friends had thrown me a farewell party and I knew there was no looking back. I landed at Mumbai in two hours. My phone wasn't working and I walked to the phone booth to call home. My brother's voice on the other end made me home sick. I am sure the vodafone executive at the other end got a earful from my brother. After all, I was the baby sister who had left home one time. Pampered, protected, idealistic. 

I cried myself to sleep that night, longing for home. I never told my parents or friends back home that. I wanted to prove how strong I was. How right I was to take the decision. 

With every passing day, I doubted my decision to shift to another city. I didn't fit in. I wasn't meant to be there. How would I survive? The first year I flew home every month. I cried often longing for home and made one friend. Just one. My phone calls to home got longer and longer and very often I would break down and pretend like the network was bad. My parents paid my ever growing phone bills and never said a word. I guess they missed me too. 

As time passed, it got easier. I made new friends. I learnt not fitting in was not a bad thing. Standing out was better sometimes. I adjusted a little. The others adjusted a little. We all learnt from one another. We graduated and were at the crossroads once again. Where do we go from there? 

Fate took me back home. I was as unsure of moving back as I had been of moving to Mumbai. I had become the princess in Mumbai and had to remove my imaginary crown and move back home. I had tried to hold on to my relationships back home so I knew I had something to look forward to when I moved back. Boy, was I wrong or what. I had grown in ways different from my friends back home. Living in a different city does that to you. I could no longer relate to them and my phone calls were now to my friends back in Mumbai. My ever growing phone calls were still paid by my parents who still didn't complain. I guess they understood that a part of mine always would be in another city. 

I guess what I am trying to say is that my heart is torn. And it always will be. A part will always be with my family back in Mumbai and another with my family here. While I am here, I long to be there. And when I am there, I long to be back home. I still follow my heart though. Both pieces of it :-).