This was written over countless cups of coffee spent as I tried to make sense of how I felt after coming back to the city I once called home, and learnt to call it just that again. The final words were put to paper after brewing a medium roast with my french press.
The idea of homecoming is, at least in my head, limited to those who come home from a war, a voyage or something in proportion. So, when I came back to the city where I learnt my ropes as a human being, I didn’t much see it as a homecoming. I did see it as the idea of someone coming home after a long time, in every sense of the word. It didn’t feel earned though. I thought I was the same person who had left two years ago in an almost knee-jerk reaction of leaving the city for good.
I wrote this as an empty cup of coffee sat on a perfectly aligned coaster at enough distance from my laptop so as to not spill the leftover sip on it.
I want you to know that like peanut butter and honey between two slices of toasted bread at four in the afternoon, but also, at four in the night, sometimes. When I’m outside though, I prefer a savoury spinach, corn and cheese sandwich. I like my coffee medium to dark without milk and sugar. I have a specific dislike for sugar. It wasn’t always that way, but then I learned that sweet things were particularly harmful. I especially enjoy a cup when there’s an unexpected spice, flavour or hint to it.
I wrote this as I drank some very cold coffee that had been sitting in the pot for a while. When doing the dishes after a long day, you often face the decision of throwing some very well-brewed coffee, albeit cold, down the sink or drink it. It’s seldom that I choose the former.
In some ways, I’ve always been a writer, but if I was being honest, I really began writing because I wanted to be one of the greats. I wanted to leave something behind that was celebrated for years after I disappeared.
When I moved to Pune some six months ago, I found myself walking along a path for too long only to realise that it didn’t lead me wherever I was going. I was still getting used to the whole area. It was unfamiliar, and therefore, sometimes, I had to retrace my steps back to a juncture before I could move in what seemed to be the right direction.