Unfinished Business

1. homecoming

The train rattles on, and I stare out at the sunlit fields slipping past, trying to let the steady motion settle my mind. Mumbai seems like a distant memory now, blurred by the speed of this train and, well, by my decision to leave it all behind. The work, the chaos, the city life—it all feels like something I escaped rather than something I left. Why did I leave? So many reasons, but right now I don't even want to think about them. I'd rather focus on where I'm heading.

Home.

It still feels strange saying that word after so long. Jaipur has been nothing more than a postcard memory for years, though my family has been waiting for my return with all the eagerness in the world. And my dad—he'll never admit it, but he's been needing me more than ever lately. He's been in and out of hospitals these last few months, and the thought of him there without me gnawed at me every single day in Mumbai. So, here I am, train ticket in hand, a couple of suitcases packed with whatever was left of my life, returning to Jaipur to be with them.

The train begins to slow, and I catch my first glimpse of the city, a blend of pink and gold rooftops dotted under the bright morning sun. My stomach knots with a mix of nostalgia and nerves. I've spent years in Mumbai's grey, vertical sprawl, yet Jaipur's earthy warmth and spread-out colors feel... right. Familiar. 

I stepped out, and the air hit me, thick and warm, laced with the scent of chai, spicy street snacks, and flowers. The platform is just as I remember it: busy, buzzing with life, and a little chaotic. Vendors call out to travelers, offering chai, samosas, and sweets. There are kids tugging on their parents' arms, college students arguing over fare with auto drivers, and families reuniting with the hum of voices speaking in that familiar Rajasthan dialect pulled at my heart.

The station is alive, chaotic, and unmistakably Jaipur. I'm wrapped in the smells and sounds of my childhood, a home I didn't know I missed until I felt it again.

I make my way through the streets, dodging motorbikes and stray dogs, my gaze sweeping over everything like I'm trying to soak it all in. The sun is higher now, casting a golden glow over the city. Jaipur has always been a city of color, culture, and life, and I wonder if, after all this time, I can finally find my place in it again.

But for now, I'm just glad to be here, letting this city's energy fill me up as I head toward home.

Taking a deep breath, I hailed an auto-rickshaw and gave the driver my address. The narrow streets unfolded before me, lined with centuries-old buildings, their walls worn and faded but still full of life. I noticed women in brightly colored saris, laughing together as they balanced heavy clay pots on their heads, and men sitting in small clusters, talking, gesturing wildly, and sipping chai out of earthen cups. It was like stepping back into a part of myself I'd buried under Mumbai's towering high-rises and sleepless nights.

As the auto whizzed through the streets, I caught glimpses of the famous Hawa Mahal, its hundreds of tiny windows glittering under the sun, and the old bazaars with their overflowing shops of textiles, spices, and jewelry. It was beautiful in its chaos, unlike the polished malls and storefronts I'd grown used to. Jaipur was raw, honest, and proud of it.

The auto pulled up to my family home, a small haveli painted in the classic Jaipur pink with an old carved wooden door. The sight of it brought a sudden surge of emotions—nostalgia, comfort, and a tinge of sadness for everything I'd missed while I was away. Before I could gather my thoughts, the door swung open, and my mom appeared, arms open and eyes misty.

"Arrey, Maya, you're finally here!" she exclaimed, pulling me into a tight hug. It felt like everything I'd been running from in Mumbai had just melted away, leaving only the warmth of my mother's embrace.

Dad's face appeared over her shoulder, and I noticed he looked thinner than I remembered, but his smile was as bright as ever. "Welcome home, beta," he said softly, patting my back.

In that moment, I felt a calm I hadn't known I was missing. This was home, and whatever lay ahead—finding a new job, adjusting to this slower pace of life, dealing with old memories—I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

After the hugs and the flood of warmth from my parents, I looked around the room and realized someone was missing. "Where's Digvijay?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Mom chuckled, "He went out to get sweets for you."

I rolled my eyes, unable to resist a laugh. "Yeah, right, for me. More like for himself!"

They both chuckled, and just then, the front door creaked open. There he was, my little brother, a box of sweets in his hand, grinning like he'd conquered the world. The moment he spotted me, he dropped the box on the table and dashed over, wrapping me in a bear hug.

"Behenaaaa!" he exclaimed, drawing out the word dramatically, which earned a laugh from me.

"Hold up, hold up," I said, trying to free myself. "Did I miss something? Who is this emotional little brother of mine? Did you hit your head on the way here, or did you just miss me that much?"

He pulled back, flashing a grin. "Miss you? Let's not get carried away, Didi," he teased. "I'm just here for the sweets."

"Ha! So predictable. And here I thought you'd gone all sentimental on me," I shot back, ruffling his hair.

He ducked out of reach, smoothing his hair back with exaggerated indignation. "You know, you're the one who's gotten soft. Mumbai must have changed you. Used to be tougher, Maya."

"Oh, really?" I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms. "Remind me who was always begging me to cover for him when he'd mess up?"

"Begging?" He scoffed. "I'd say it was more... strategic sibling alliances."

I snorted. "Strategic, huh? More like 'Maya, please save me from Mom's lecture, I swear I'll never take your charger without asking again.' Ring a bell?"

He grinned, unbothered. "Well, maybe I did miss having my personal rescuer around," he said, putting an arm around my shoulders with a wide grin. "Welcome back."

I shoved him playfully, laughing as I saw my parents watching us with warm smiles.

It felt good to be home.