There are only a few moments in your life that are etched in your memory forever. You remember every frame like it's a movie scene. That's how well I recall the night I left for Toronto.
It was just my mother and I. As I left from home, I started looking at everything that came my way that night, as if I was recording that moment in my head. Every shop in our neighborhood market, the streets, people passing by, our childhood park that was primarily famous for hosting one of the biggest Durga Pujas in town and more. The fact that I had a strange feeling was not only because I was leaving Delhi but I was leaving it forever. Yes, that's because my family was leaving for Bangalore in the following week too.
Cut to the scene, sorry, moment where it was time to say goodbye! The piled up immigration related worries, a slightly overweight bag and, of course, having to leave Mom behind - choked me up a little. But I did put up a brave front as opposed to my Mom. She was just being a mother!
Check-in and immigration were cakewalk. In my head I cursed all those who scared me about what a nightmare it could be travelling to Canada. And what followed were mandatory update on Facebook, checking out the stores and comparing the prices and grabbing a drink at the lounge.
And finally, the final moment arrived - takeoff! Everything that happened in between isn't worth mentioning. I still don't know what happened to me. Just when the flight took off, it struck me that "This is it. I am ACTUALLY leaving this country, this city where I was born, grew up and came into my own." And I buried my face in the window and burst into tears like a baby. Call it dramatic, I kept looking behind, as the plane flew out of the city. It seemed all this while I had not given it a thought even OR I was so consumed in the mundanity, to keep myself off from this thought that I never let this particular feeling come out.
The day I got to know that I would be going to Canada, my happiness knew no bounds. I think I had started packing two months earlier. But very soon the first realisation of 'Am I doing the right thing?' hit me when I had to put down my papers at work. That was the first time I felt I would be out of work for a very long time and lose the feeling of having my own money in my account (obviously, because how much of your Rupees can you save when you have to spend in Dollars?) But there was a lot to do in very little time. I got busy in sorting my clothes, documents, etc and helping the family with moving to Bangalore. Even amidst the hustle of packing and moving, I suddenly I had some time to myself, I worked out, made trips to all those places that I loved in Delhi like Hauz Khas, Connaught Place, Lodhi Gardens and more, noted recipes to save me and the husband on a rainy day, met all the friends I could, ate Bhel Puri, Gol Guppas and other street food - thinking if I would ever get to do all this anymore.
But as the day of leaving appeared closer, my heart was divided into two halves - one that was jumping with joy to meet the husband after months of staying apart and the other that was sad to leave my loved ones, the city that I have always called my own, a job that was going pretty well and, most importantly, that comfort that I may or may not get in a new place. I realised though I had been keeping busy, I was just trying to avoid this feeling of sadness that one day I HAD to leave. It was all pent up and was only released when the flight took off.
And as I looked out of the window, I thought - they said it was going to be a long flight. But what they did not say was that it was going to be my longest flight.
It was just my mother and I. As I left from home, I started looking at everything that came my way that night, as if I was recording that moment in my head. Every shop in our neighborhood market, the streets, people passing by, our childhood park that was primarily famous for hosting one of the biggest Durga Pujas in town and more. The fact that I had a strange feeling was not only because I was leaving Delhi but I was leaving it forever. Yes, that's because my family was leaving for Bangalore in the following week too.
Cut to the scene, sorry, moment where it was time to say goodbye! The piled up immigration related worries, a slightly overweight bag and, of course, having to leave Mom behind - choked me up a little. But I did put up a brave front as opposed to my Mom. She was just being a mother!
Check-in and immigration were cakewalk. In my head I cursed all those who scared me about what a nightmare it could be travelling to Canada. And what followed were mandatory update on Facebook, checking out the stores and comparing the prices and grabbing a drink at the lounge.
And finally, the final moment arrived - takeoff! Everything that happened in between isn't worth mentioning. I still don't know what happened to me. Just when the flight took off, it struck me that "This is it. I am ACTUALLY leaving this country, this city where I was born, grew up and came into my own." And I buried my face in the window and burst into tears like a baby. Call it dramatic, I kept looking behind, as the plane flew out of the city. It seemed all this while I had not given it a thought even OR I was so consumed in the mundanity, to keep myself off from this thought that I never let this particular feeling come out.
The day I got to know that I would be going to Canada, my happiness knew no bounds. I think I had started packing two months earlier. But very soon the first realisation of 'Am I doing the right thing?' hit me when I had to put down my papers at work. That was the first time I felt I would be out of work for a very long time and lose the feeling of having my own money in my account (obviously, because how much of your Rupees can you save when you have to spend in Dollars?) But there was a lot to do in very little time. I got busy in sorting my clothes, documents, etc and helping the family with moving to Bangalore. Even amidst the hustle of packing and moving, I suddenly I had some time to myself, I worked out, made trips to all those places that I loved in Delhi like Hauz Khas, Connaught Place, Lodhi Gardens and more, noted recipes to save me and the husband on a rainy day, met all the friends I could, ate Bhel Puri, Gol Guppas and other street food - thinking if I would ever get to do all this anymore.
But as the day of leaving appeared closer, my heart was divided into two halves - one that was jumping with joy to meet the husband after months of staying apart and the other that was sad to leave my loved ones, the city that I have always called my own, a job that was going pretty well and, most importantly, that comfort that I may or may not get in a new place. I realised though I had been keeping busy, I was just trying to avoid this feeling of sadness that one day I HAD to leave. It was all pent up and was only released when the flight took off.
And as I looked out of the window, I thought - they said it was going to be a long flight. But what they did not say was that it was going to be my longest flight.
