Home Sweet Home

Coming home this time was an adventure which involved suspense, tears, thrill, physical repercussions, exhaustion, time and high octave emotions. Basically, everything to make a good Netflix drama. Honestly, looking at the kind of stuff coming out of the online world, a Netflix drama on my journey would be more entertaining. What’s happening to content, there is an endless supply of average content that barely helps time to pass?

Now that I am back, for good, the problems in the academic department have begun. I mean I should have known, when everything with regards to my research was going smoothly that something would go wrong. I feel silly for not expecting this. I have realised thatndoing research on humans involving humans is a real pain, considering I and humans don’t share a good relationship. Although things aren’t all bad.

I will describe what I am facing right now, buckle up, it might get graphic. I think when a researcher wants to be ethical why must people have a problem with that? I though it’s a good thing, but people have a problem with accountability and commitment. I feel like apart from my actual research I am discovering more about human psychology than I would like to. People love to talk, love the attention but would not like to sign off on it. We all love doing things, but when it comes to taking responsibility that scares us.

When I began doing my research I didn’t expect that people would be the problem, but apparently that’s the only problem really. Everything else is pretty quick and straightforward. Interviews are great, but the rest of it, the peripherals are what take the most time. Now it doesn’t feel like I am home, it just feels like I have just put myself in the middle of the family madness while having to attend to my dissertation.

I have to walk my Dad, literally, apparently the man can’t go on walks unless I am around, I am my mother’s only relief when it comes to the house, and then there’s my research which requires the most time and attention. My parents always told me that when I’d have a child I’d know. Now I know, this dissertation is my baby. I have never cared for anything more.

This dissertation has the ability to strike fear into my heart faster than any cow, because I am so scared of something happening to it. I’d also do anything for this dissertation, anything and that’s scary for me to feel this sort of love at this level. While it sounds funny in my head, it’s the truth. I haven’t cared for anything more in my life. At every small step I feel so proud of the dissertation. Even when I am thinking of something else my mind and heart are still on the dissertation.

So home is the usual, home never changes, only the people in that home keep chaning. Without the people in it this home would just be a house. Coming home changes nothing in my life but being closer to the people who made this life what it is changes how I feel about being there. When the cab driver cancelled on the mornng of my trip home at the last minute, the reason why I cried wasn’t because I might miss the flight and not be able to come home, it was because there was a chance the distance between me and the people who make my home might not shrink.

After puking at Heathrow Terminal 2 right when I got off my cab when I got carsick, I still knew I would get on the flight, nothing would stop me from coming home. Now three days later I laugh at my experience, but as I sat at the airport smelling my own puke on myself and fiercely hoping nobody else smelt it I wanted the nightmare journey to end.

My life has always been comical, but that’s also because I have a bad habit of being self-depracating. But during that journey my spirits were never higher. When I returned my keys at the reception before leaving and they said, “Awww, you’re leaving us,” like it was a sad thing, my grin couldn’t have been brighter. This goodbye couldn’t have been easier.

When I landed, and had to pass my hand luggage twice through the scanner just because the security was half-asleep, I still put up with it and when I saw my Dad waiting for me, I finally relaxed. It’s also because my Dad’s smile can make anyone relax. After mistakenly stopping the cab driver from taking my luggage because I thought he wasn’t our driver, I realised how interesting this journey was for me.

For one thing to go right five things must go wrong. But home inspired in me a strange willpower, a stress-induced frenzy to rush back to India. I can safely say, home is where I’d rather be. I wouldn’t have it any other way, not even if I was paid. (Who am I kidding, I’d do anything if I were paid)


3 thoughts on “Home Sweet Home

  1. Cathy Cade says:

    I have been in New Zealand for an unspecified period. Don’t get me wrong: it’s a lovely place; the people everywhere are friendly and welcoming. I am now able to enjoy being here because I know I will be going home in two weeks.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Poonacha PG says:

    Glad you like your home and have people at home who can’t help themselves! Enjoy and write more to make the world your home.


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