There she goes..

When all is said and done, have you done or said enough?

Have I?

I wonder.

Three bags stand before me. They are all I can take.

But how do I fit the door-side travel on a Churchgate Fast in them? Will there be space to pack the SP Quad? And how do I carry the long hours sitting at Marine Drive at twilight. The starry nights as the waves splash against the rocks and Mumbai speeds by. Or the stroll by Juhu Beach. The inexpensive bookstalls at Fountain.The Mutton Biryani at Lucky? Or even fried Bombay duck.

How do I take along, the scent of Mumbai.

At least maybe some way to pack those sleepovers and triple seat rides, those innocent school days of eating Vada Pav for Rs.2.5 in the canteen, the crazy Sathaye days of exploring the world beyond Parle, the Sp days of  friendship, IVs, trips, fights, PLs, Katres and Techmaxes, dreams, love and life.

Is there space to fit in the fat brother I will miss fighting with? The bed by the window which I won against him. The chocolates and ice-cream that we “equally divided” each time when brought home.

Can I take mom along?

In the middle of to do lists and things to be bought, suddenly these three bags seem hollow. And useless.

Everything that I wish to take along, I am leaving behind. The concept of paying more for extra luggage sounds like such an irony. *chuckles*

When all is said and done, have you done or said enough?

Have I?

I wonder. Again.

21 years of priceless memories. Moments, I fear I may find hard to remember over time, and those I dread will haunt me forever.

People who walked in and out of life. Those who walked with me and those who left me on paths alone. Things I learnt from them when they were not even teaching.

Some incomplete stories. Some which over-lived their life. Some abruptly cut short, some stretched beyond recognition. Some cherished, some regretted.

Maybe it’s not the end. But maybe it is.  Who can know?

When all is said and done, have you done or said enough?

Have I?

I wonder, not so much this time.

Well, it matters not much. Or in fact, nothing can be done anymore. What is done, is. What isn’t, isn’t.

This is the last post from the city they I swear by, from the laptop that has been patiently digesting all that I type into it, and the home that has made me what I am today.

I know I will cry, I have always been an easy crier. People often judge me on that. It again doesn’t matter. I know there have been things worth missing. It doesn’t make me weak, it only means I am aware of what I am into. How lucky I must be to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.

Anyway, it’s been an ultimate joyride. There are no regrets. Only memories. And dreams.

Mumbai, you are my first love. You are a rockstar. No New York or London will ever take your place.  I will almost miss the potholes too.

Mom, I will try to make chicken gravy but it will never be like yours.

Omkar, don’t be too happy, you still don’t have sole ownership of our room.

My few blog readers ( I am being really hopeful here), I am starting a new journey. I am sure there will be enough to blog about that side of the world too.

USA, make space for one more Indian.

And now, time for the big leap.

See you on the other side.

That’s All Folks.

Be good, be hopeful.

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