So, I am back to Kathmandu, and I am feeling low. Missing home, missing my mom, dad, brother, and everything that is associated with being home. I come back to Kathmandu out of choice, and I don’t have a compulsion. So, I probably do not have the right to whine, but every time, as I cross the mayhem of Kalanki, melancholy seeps in. Probably everyone who gets back after a good time with family members feel the way I do at the moment. I think about the futility of all of this. Why is it important that we leave home to make a life for ourselves while we can have a life with our loved ones back home? Why do we need to have these dreams? Why is the city life so alluring? Is it the high-end eatery joints? The freedom? The independence? or just a state of mind?
As I think and ponder about all of it, I know that I want to be here as much I want to be home. May be when I get up tomorrow morning, I will feel better, and more at ‘home.’
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