Going back home again

In a few months, I'll be boarding a plane to India.

Unlike many of my journeys, this one isn't about discovering a new destination. It's about returning. Returning to familiar places, familiar faces, and memories that have been quietly waiting for me.

This trip will take me through Bangalore, Mumbai, Kihim, and Delhi. Four places. Four sets of memories. Four different chapters of my life.

Bangalore may be the city I am most curious about. The Bangalore I knew and the Bangalore that exists today are not quite the same thing. The city has grown, roads have changed, and neighborhoods have transformed. Many of my favorite places have probably changed too.

But milestones have a way of surviving, even when buildings don't.

They exist in familiar roads, street corners, and memories attached to places.

I find myself wondering if Corner House is still there and whether I can still order an ice cream sundae and watch the world go by for a while. I think about Cubbon Park and slowing down enough to sit beneath the trees and simply be. I think about a cup of tea at that quaint little tea place on Cunningham Road. The kind of place you don't put on a tourist itinerary. The kind of place that becomes important simply because it was part of your life.

Mumbai is different.

Perhaps because it is where I was born.

A city that has been part of my story from the very beginning.

I lived there, worked there, and built part of my life there. Yet every time I return, Mumbai still manages to overwhelm me. The humidity. The energy. The feeling that everyone is headed somewhere important.

Every visit reminds me why I both love it and find it exhausting.

And still, I find myself drawn back to familiar places. The crowded lanes around Crawford Market. The noise, the endless movement, the shopkeepers, and the feeling that around every corner there is something unexpected waiting to be discovered.

Then there is Bandra. A different rhythm altogether. The cafés, the sea breeze, the old neighborhoods, and the feeling of slowing down for a while and simply watching life unfold.

Mumbai has changed enormously since the years I lived there. I know many of the places I remember have changed too. But cities are more than buildings. They are memories, friendships, milestones, and pieces of ourselves left behind. Somewhere between Crawford Market and Bandra, I suspect I'll find a few of mine waiting for me.

Though I'm going to Mumbai, I'm really not. Mumbai is simply where the journey begins. It's what I have to go through, to get to where my heart lies - Kihim. A small dot on a map that means far more to me than its size would suggest. It's always been Home. Aashiyana, Nala, walks on the beach. Just sitting at the dining table smelling the mogra and listening to the ocean. This time, one of my dearest friends will come with me. It will be extra special. Some places are destinations. Others become part of your history. Kihim has always felt like the latter.

My exit will be through Delhi. A city that carries layers of history everywhere you look. A city where one conversation can take you from politics to food to family history in less than ten minutes. A city that never seems to do anything quietly.

Interwoven through all of this will be family, friends, long lunches that stretch into evening, and stories that have been waiting to be told in person instead of over a phone call.

And then there is the wedding. Not just any wedding. The wedding of one of my bestie's son.

I've watched her family grow through the years. Shared conversations, celebrations, worries, milestones, and everyday moments. This time, I'll be staying with her for several days before the wedding, which may be the part I'm looking forward to most. The late-night conversations. The last-minute preparations. The excitement that builds as relatives begin arriving from different parts of the country and the world.

And then, of course, the wedding itself. The colorful clothes. The flowers. The music. The laughter. The gorgeous settings that somehow become even more beautiful once they fill with people.

The Manjha ceremony. The celebrations that stretch across several days. The emotions of the Bidaai. The joy of watching two families come together.

Indian weddings have always been about more than the couple. They are about family, community, tradition, and memory. Somehow, they manage to create new memories while honoring old ones.

As the trip gets closer, I find myself thinking about the little things.

The first cup of chai after landing...

A crisp masala dosa that somehow never tastes quite the same anywhere else in the world...

Soft idlis with sambar and chutney for breakfast...

The street food I have missed.

The language shifting around me.

The familiar rhythm of everyday life around me.

The feeling of belonging in places that helped shape me.

Travel is often described as discovering somewhere new. This journey is something different. It is a return. To places. To people. To memories. To Home.

Can't wait!

Heart of my heart!