frangipanis, chalk and charcoal on handmade paper, sujaandas
It's time to cut off a branch - along with its many leaves - young purple ones that have just started growing, some dark green firmly attached ones, and others that are brown and yellow and would fall off anyway. All of them add colour to my life. Attachments, weak and strong, that on the whole bind me so strongly to Bombay. Some ties that have names and ties that often were hard to categorize. It's struck me suddenly that my life will change: I will no longer live with the P. Lewises of Walton Road. I will no longer climb the wooden staircase carefully so that I do not step on the cat that sleeps on the landing. I will no longer take bus number 3 to Navy Nagar. I will no longer show the hideous pink ID card at the TIFR gate. And the shopkeeper near Electric House, who gives the customary smile of recognition, will soon have new customers to attend to.
There's so much unfinished, there's so much that needs closure, and this abruptness makes me uneasy. There have been relationships that have grown, many that have not grown, and many more that could have grown. Many, that have been stifled at the inception. Many for which distance made conversation impossible, and many for which conversation made closeness impossible...and a few for which I'm ready to cover any distance for a conversation. It's time to leave all of it and go. The strongest leaf must wither and eventually fall. It's time to cut off a chunk of me, with the hope that it would grow back soon... it always does. Though this time it'll be hard, it'll be hard to accept that I will not see many that I love so dearly for a long, long time.
