Home is where You are.

I'm not blind at all to Mumbai's faults. For a city trying hard collectively to be at the cutting edge of modernity, it has seemed terribly backward, many times. But, I shall give Mumbai credit, where it's due. It prepares you to live, adjust and even thrive, in perhaps most parts of the world. Yet, as I went back home for a short stay, I wasn't struck with nostalgia, no memories swept over me, as I looked dispassionately out the car window at the chaotic buzz around. Just the happiness of seeing my family and settling into the familiarity of home. As a Christian saying goes, I live as a stranger on earth, with an enduring citizenship that awaits, beyond.

Home was another story. I felt like I was never away. My mother, bless her heart, promptly served up a feast fit for a king. In all the 3 and a half days spent, I unabashedly state that my jaws never stopped moving. Irrespective of culinary timelines set by civilization - breakfast, lunch, dinner, I ate.. anytime and more accurately, at all times. So, by the time, it was time for me to leave, I'd consumed enough food to feed a little African country.

As I cozied myself in my own room, plopped on my own bed, miles away and removed from my boot-camp style bed, I displayed the stuff I got for my family. More moved by the sentiment and feeling, than by the gifts, I loved the joy in my parent's faces and wondered if that's how they felt when I appreciated things they gave and did for me. God, perhaps, feels the same way, over happiness and gratitude displayed over a blessing.

Yea, this is home. Back to the order and cleanliness of my room, where everything is in it's right place. Yet, it had the calm and stillness of a day, just before a storm is gathering. My suspicions were confirmed when my sister confessed to running a squad-like operation to beautify the room, before my imminent arrival. Of course, her wardrobe, still was the same ol' horror of horrors. Not just messy, but, so messy, I thought I might need an oxygen mask to enter without passing out.

After 3 and a half happy days, of eating, talking, church-time, spent with the ones I love, it was time to bid adieu. I was to travel on Republic Day, a national holiday never being a good day to travel, since 9/11. I however, was more concerned, about handling my guitar in the plane, even as my mother fretted over Bin Laden, himself, being my co-passenger on my trip back to Bangalore.

As I landed at Bangalore airport, which by now, thanks to its uncomplicated layout, I've come to know like the back of my hand, I smiled at the memory of how suddenly Bangalore had fallen on my Mum's motherly radar. Everything that occurred within a 1000 kilometre radius of Bangalore, was promptly and duly reported to me, which included giving me information on my own company - the one I worked for.

Leaving home, wasn't the hard part. The daily living is. Not knowing what my future holds, but certainly and oh so, thankfully, knowing the One who holds my future. Well, Home is where the Heart is. And, where the Treasure is, there the Heart is. And when I think about it, Home is where You, Oh Lord, are. Let that be enough..