The Goodbye Post

I flew from Kerala. Which means a bunch of relatives (some close, some not-so-close, and some so not-at-all-close I had no idea why they were there) insisted on dropping me off at the Kochi airport and waving frantically at what they thought was my plane. My mother, who cries at the drop of a hat, wept enough to create a small water body that day. For an alarming split second, I wondered if I was making a big mistake by going. Being the strong and silent type, I remained strong and silentish, allowing a tear to escape only when I was in the plane, while my dad tactfully studied his uninteresting in-flight magazine carefully. Needless to say, the excitement crept back again quickly.

Ten hours later we were in London.

First thoughts: I don't think I like Heathrow very much. Too many people, too many signs, too many queues, too many lots of things. I'm woozy and confused. What is going on. Uff.

Seconds thoughts: Uh, how cold is it going to get in December again? Because I’m freezing right now, and it's only September.

Third thoughts: Okay, it’s cold and wet and dark. But it’s London. LONDON. I’m there. I mean, here. YAY.

Also, I'm very glad that my dad decided to come along. I'm such a baby.

We travelled to Leeds only the next day, after spending the night at a family friend's place. My dad helped me unpack, bought me groceries to last me a week, and left.

I’m not an extrovert. Big groups make me uncomfortable. I don’t make friends very quickly, I can’t. But it didn’t seem like a disadvantage in Leeds. Or maybe I’ve changed, a little bit. I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I had to share a flat with absolute strangers. Family-less in a foreign land, you start to look for family-ness in the people around you. It’s not easy to live with people. Even with your friends, for that matter. You can get on each other’s nerves after a point. Living together is very, very different from spending time together. Which is why I was thrilled to have people like Gee and Abeer as my flatmates. Even though the three of us were completely different from each other (e.g., Abeer- Civil Engineering student, Gee- International Finance student, me- English Literature student) we got along like a house on fire.

It took me a few days to realize that Ma wasn’t going to bring me a cup of chai the moment I woke up. There wasn’t going to be a plate of hot buttered dosas with steaming sambaar and cold chutney, or upma with sliced bananas or Bombay toast or any of the twenty different breakfasty things she or Veremummy used to make, waiting for me at the dining table while I got geared up for the day. Neither was there going to be a hot lunch (rice, a gravy, fish and something else, usually) all ready for me when I got back home, tired after classes. Nobody to say, It’s-okay-I’ll-do-the-dishes-you-don’t-bother. Oh yes, I took full advantage of my spoilt-only-child-of-doting-parents-and-even-more-doting-grandparents status. Leeds changed all that. Completely.

I'm never going to say, Ma, why did you make this dish again? We just had it day before yesterday, for god's sake ever again.

For the next few months, it was Gee (pouring milk into her bowl of oats or mixing sugar in her coffee) that I saw first thing in the morning as I stumbled into the kitchen rubbing the sleep from my eyes. She would tell me her plans for the day while I toasted bread or fried an egg. (When she didn’t have classes, Abeer would have breakfast at lunchtime).

Abeer was my grocery-shopping partner. We would always come back with more stuff than what we’d planned to buy, our arms aching from the load. We’d make it a point to spend at least fifteen minutes gazing at the dessert section longingly, and another fifteen arguing over which cake, pie or mousse looked more sinful and therefore, was going to come home with us. The dessert would usually be consumed while watching a movie in her room.

I’ve lost track of the number of people I’ve had so many good conversations with in the past year- friends of flatmates, classmates, coursemates, flatmates of friends, building-mates, random people at the bank and other random places…

I don’t remember having too many lonely moments.

I regret not having spent more time with so many people, not making time for them. I wish I could spend more time with the people I’ve already spent a lot of time with. Sometimes, I wish I could go back to the place where Gee and Abeer were only a knock away, and I could see Abha’s room from my window.

I can’t condense all the experiences I’ve had here in a blog post. I want to, though. I want to name every person who’s found their way into my circle of friends. I want to pick out all the moments (consequential or otherwise) I’ve had with those people, with myself in the past year, and put them on a mantelpiece. The camera did its best, but the pictures don't do justice. Sadly, my words don't either.