The Homecoming

I'm home. Or am I? I entered the house I grew up in with mixed feelings. I always wanted to come back to Chennai to pursue my career. The work life balance in this city is better. Or at least it was, eight years ago. I would be able to raise my child and head back to work. But how could I convince you? You, a Chennai hater and climate change expert, with your heart set on the world. 

I prayed hard to every God I know to just come back home with you and the child. God, granted my wish, but in such a twisted way. When I entered the bedroom I lived in pre-marriage, my eyes fell on our wedding photo. I instantly burst into tears. Every inch of that room reminded me of the girl who dated you and was waiting to get married to you. 

All the other rooms in the house have our wedding photo as well. I entered the kitchen and saw the same model of the coffee machine you used in our first house at Kandivali. I saw a wedding invitation lying on the dining table. I hadn't exercised because there is no gym near our house. First strike against Chennai. You would've made fun of the city in a heartbeat. 

I've been a fire breathing dragon all morning because of that one change in routine. You would've told me to calm down. But there is no you anymore. Just two anxious parents, in their late 60s and early 70s wondering what to do. 

So first things first, I'll join the gym tommorow morning and take the baby to the beach today. He hasn't asked about you yet. He asked about Vasavi aunty and his house. So I video-called Vasavi and told him this is his house. He shook his little head vehemently and said, "No. This is ammumma and Ajja's house". I replied saying, "I'll make a house, for you, me and Baba. Will you live with me there?" 

I've forgotten how everything in this house works, me, a 34 year old newly turned widow. How can I expect a 3 year old to quickly adapt and acclimatize? It will take time, for the two of us and my parents.

The fact that I'm no longer a child had to be dinned in quite rudely this morning. I apologized and told them the Cooam river had flooded my head and to forgive me in advance for any future bad behaviour. Do you remember the Cooam river poopie? That's what you've done to my brain. Congratulations! 

If you're having any second thoughts about  coming back from the dead, now would be the time to do it. I doubt you're at peace. For selfish reasons, I don't want you to be. Just come back already and I promise I'll stop nagging you about your lifestyle, your lack of sleep and your taste in music.