Although, unlike you, I have spent all my life in one place (Delhi, India), I have been struggling to find a place that I can call home. Many of my writings have attempted to articulate the very crisis that you have described—of not knowing when one is going home and when one is leaving home.
Although, unlike you, I have spent all my life in one place (Delhi, India), I have been struggling to find a place that I can call home. Many of my writings have attempted to articulate the very crisis that you have described—of not knowing when one is going home and when one is leaving home.
In the last couple of years, I have tried to build a home with my partner in Bangalore, but I have failed to commit to either Delhi or Bangalore as my home. I refuse to simply submit to the idea that a woman’s home is with her husband. Most of my work is remote, independent, because I refuse to let a job dictate my place of residence. Other than the weather, I don’t have an anchor to help me decide where I’d rather be at a particular point in time.
The “melancholic cusps” that you describe are all too familiar. I never know where I stay and where I visit. I have often wondered if home must necessarily be a single place; maybe it isn’t. But then there are as many fragments of me as there are homes. I can never be whole anywhere.
I am so glad to have found your writing, because it offers me reassurance. Maybe I can find (or create) a home within the places where I stay. Maybe I can be my own home. Your piece has soothed my soul. Thank you, Priya.
Thank you for offering your perspective. The way we feel is shaped by our different experiences but I think, at its crux, it’s a belonging uncertainty. I am afraid that if I leave, I’ll never be able to find home again and from what I understand, you are grappling with the uncertainty of what makes a home. I don’t have answers but I can offer companionship!
Although, unlike you, I have spent all my life in one place (Delhi, India), I have been struggling to find a place that I can call home. Many of my writings have attempted to articulate the very crisis that you have described—of not knowing when one is going home and when one is leaving home.
In the last couple of years, I have tried to build a home with my partner in Bangalore, but I have failed to commit to either Delhi or Bangalore as my home. I refuse to simply submit to the idea that a woman’s home is with her husband. Most of my work is remote, independent, because I refuse to let a job dictate my place of residence. Other than the weather, I don’t have an anchor to help me decide where I’d rather be at a particular point in time.
The “melancholic cusps” that you describe are all too familiar. I never know where I stay and where I visit. I have often wondered if home must necessarily be a single place; maybe it isn’t. But then there are as many fragments of me as there are homes. I can never be whole anywhere.
I am so glad to have found your writing, because it offers me reassurance. Maybe I can find (or create) a home within the places where I stay. Maybe I can be my own home. Your piece has soothed my soul. Thank you, Priya.
Thank you for offering your perspective. The way we feel is shaped by our different experiences but I think, at its crux, it’s a belonging uncertainty. I am afraid that if I leave, I’ll never be able to find home again and from what I understand, you are grappling with the uncertainty of what makes a home. I don’t have answers but I can offer companionship!
The idea of belonging uncertainty rings true. It’s always reassuring to know that one is not alone. Thank you! :)