Sometimes I wonder, is it just me or others too feel more nostalgic when we are down. I used to feel guilty when I think of my place only when I need a safe cocoon to rest my mind. But now I have realized that my nostalgia towards my birthplace is constant,ever present. It is in my every complaint of climate or road conditions or language barriers in a different place. Actually these are not complaints at all, this is just the mind subconsciously missing the familiarity of the place I grew up.
Some people ask me, what do I miss the most? My parents, my school, my friends. Actually it can't be compartmentalized. Childhood memories are a whole package. From the loving care of parents, to the commute to school by cycle, knowing all the bends and potholes of the road , drawing on the wooden desks with our compasses, to the teachers whose house we used to know and visit during festivals, everything comes back and slams you on your chest.
It is one thing driving your car through a busy street on a metro.But it is completely different cycling your way on a almost deserted road, a little submerged by water, potholes here and there, wild shrubs bending over from the adjasent drain. Given a choice, I would switch to the cycle any time.
Sometimes I wonder what dreams I am chasing. I am not living in the place I love, not with my parents whom I want to care for. I know what I want but I am unable to do it. Fear of money maybe? I am afraid to find out the answer.