Poetic Sensibility

20- Home Away From Home

Samay wasn't exactly glued to his phone but he would be lying to himself if he believed he wasn't waiting for Sarah's call. What did Kabir think of their project? What did Kabir think of Sarah's ideas? And what about the whole 'it's a date!' thing? Had he finally confessed his feelings for her? Had she? Dear God, he was turning into a gossip girl and he only had Sarah to blame. This is what her influence did to him. His phone pinged and he almost toppled a glass of water in his rush to check it. It was a message from Sarah on the poetry session's WhatsApp group. Seriously. She was finally on a date with Kabir and this was what she was texting about.

Next session at Romi's place. She'll provide you with the address. Mama bear and Papa bear hosting a dinner party for some Godforsaken uncles and aunts who think nothing of pulling a 23 year old's cheeks. Romi, provide the address please?

Within seconds, Romi had replied with her address and the directions to get there. Samay was excited and disappointed in equal measure. He was disappointed because the message gave him no hints where Kabir and Sarah's date was concerned. What on earth were they up to? No, he really didn't want an answer to that. Or did he? And he was thrilled. Seeing Romi's apartment would provide him with some insight. He would finally be able to see more than just that... distant calmness that she showed. For now, he decided to send a text to Sarah.

How's it going?

He didn't have to wait. She replied almost immediately.

Go away. I will call you in a bit. Seriously. Go away now.

Samay grinned and shook his head. And then it hit him like a bolt of lightening. Hadn't Sarah said something about Romi having a blog? He fired up his computer and feeling extremely stalker-like, he combed through her Facebook profile. Within minutes he hit jackpot. He had found her blog link on her profile page. He saw that it was more of a travelogue. It seemed as if she only ever updated it when she was traveling. It had been divided into 12 posts that spanned over 6 years. He clicked on the one that had the maximum number of comments and reads. It was posted in the summer of 2011.

13th June, 2011

Once we had sailed past the security check-in and were lounging about at the waiting area, it had started to sink in. It finally felt real. Over 4 months of advanced bookings, 13 months of trip planning and 6 years of persuading parents was what it took for me to get here. Here being, by my best mate's side, waiting to catch a flight to Heathrow. The phrase, 'over the moon', simply didn't cut it.
I wasn't the first individual to dream of going backpacking across Europe and nor will I be the last. But the fact that the opportunity had presented itself (albeit it was only UK and Ireland and not all of Europe), and I had seized it, set me apart from all those who simply wished to wish the whole thing into existence.
I owe a lot to Keshav, the best mate I mentioned. He filled in the gaps when it came to conversation with my parents regarding my safety and sanity (sigh!). I now proceed to rely on him when it comes to my passport pouch. If I am stranded in the United Kingdom without my passport or any money on me, you know who to blame. Also, if the luggage gets too heavy for me, he will be carrying my rucksack. It is possible that he might die of exhaustion but I need all my stamina to don the robes of a Gryffindor student when I will be at the Warner Bros. Studios.
When I put further thought into the whole thing, I often fancied myself as someone who is overcome by a feeling of wanderlust that results in a truckload of epiphanies about lugging suitcases and finding yourself at home when you aren't really home. And then, guess what, I had an epiphany! I am not one of them. I am not a wanderlust-er (Honestly, I don't know the word for it). Yes, I am absolutely in love with the fact that I am off to another continent for the next 16 days with my friend but it isn't *that* what makes me giddy.
Don't misunderstand me. I am thrilled. There is that strong sense of being beside myself due to the excitement that is working it's way into my heart. But I am not juiced about going off without my parents. I am not excited about it being an "overseas vacation". I feel no different about being in the country of the sexiest accent, kilts, and Doctor Who. What I am worked up about is the change. The change that I anticipate and the change that I will ultimately face. I acknowledge that the two will be VERY different from each other. The change that I will experience when it comes to culture. The formal Operas and the informal pub fights. The change that will come with time... at one point I will be by the Havard House in Stratford, thinking about the footmen and the ladies-in-waiting of all the Victorian Aristocrats; and then I will be touring the Manchester United Stadium (which, Keshav was only to pleased to point out, is called "The Theatre of Dreams"), thinking about the adrenaline pumping in the veins of the players as I see their changing rooms. What I am completely psyched about is that change of Home... because you see.. I am going Home. I am going to a Home away from Home.

Samay had finished the post but he was not finished with the blog. He realized he couldn't stop reading. By midnight, he had seen Shakespeare's grave at Stratford-Upon-Avon, sat through The Lion King musical and gasped at the price tags attached to things at Harrods. For someone who claimed she wasn't all that passionate about traveling... she was.

Samay felt... liberated. He knew something about Romi. Something that she hadn't shown herself. Well, yes, the blog was public but she hadn't mentioned it, forget dwelling on it. He knew she had erected this wall of indifference around her. But he also knew that that indifference was feigned. Now, he realized, he couldn't wait to see her place.