Monday, November 15, 2010


Home is not a place.

Home is a feeling you get when you stand in your balcony, and you look out the window, and you are consumed with a contentedness, because you know everything will be alright.

You know that you can go down to the street, and you know where everything is and how to get there and where to get what you need, and I don't mean just groceries.

You know your friends are just down the road, and you want to see them, and you know they want to see you too.

Home is where the sunset is always beautiful.

Home is where every season is beautiful.

Home is where the July skies are torn with grey clouds and the earth is teeming with new life as the cold waters from the sea wash over you. Where December mornings are chilly, but you feel warm. Where April means a breath of fresh air and freedom, and playing all day. Where September evening skies are burned golden and the whole world is engulfed in that gorgeous sheen.

Home is where there is no nostalgia, because everything that was good then is still good now.

Home is where you feel this unexplained love. It is not for anyone or any one thing, but it is just inexplicably there, like a wraith that you can't touch.

Home is a feeling that takes care of all those things that you don't have, or that you think you need, but probably don't, but it doesn't matter anyway, because they are just things.

Home is where you see this one thing, and you can't explain it, but it touches you in a way you can't understand. You can't fathom why the thing makes you feel the way it does, when its just an object, why you get that feeling in the pit of your stomach that radiates all the way to your skin follicles, leaving you tingling.

Home is where the moon sits in the twilight, pale and coy, playfully hiding behind clouds, leaving you struck dumb, and you can always see your favorite star.

Home is where you are filled with hope, and you are always comforted, because no matter what, no matter what, you know that everything will be OK.

Home is where you stand in your balcony and look out, and you don't even know why but you are absolutely overwhelemed with a contentedness, that is so lovely that it drives you mad, and it is the sweetest insanity you can ever know, so powerful it may even move you to tears.

That's Home.


  1. I absolutely adore this "Home is where there is no nostalgia, because everything that was good then is still good now."
    I really like the place I call home, but I have never felt like THAT about it. May be for some moments on some days. You're certainly not tripping, right? Assuming that you're not, good for you that you feel that way.
    Nice to see a positive post. And the picture is so pretty. I have no idea why, but it reminds me of Avatar.

  2. i dont remember when i formed these thoughts, whether i was high or not... but it is certainly true. one of the great tragedies of my life is that i have lost every sense of this "Home" and i fear i will never, ever get it back. how sad.

    of course, you know i wrote this with Goa in mind, right?

  3. Yes, I suppose I did. It just seemed to come out of the blue, that's all.