They are bringing it down !
The first 8 years of my life were spent in that building. It just feels wierd. Standing there watching it all empty - ready to be brought down. Suddenly I realised that it might not be there from next week. All of a sudden memories I thought I had forgotten rush to my mind. I can remember every brick of the building.
Guess that is life. Everything old has to be replaced by something new.
A reason for me not being able to associate with Kuwait is this very fact. It takes away my willingess to have an association of belongingness with it. If I could, I would have never let 'my home' to be brought down. But alas ! It does not work that way here.
For 17 years, Kuwait has adopted me, and for 8 years I adopted Bombay.
But at either of these places I don't feel at home.
Just straying off a bit, I met someone who is from Lebanon. He took his mother to Canada, Switzerland, Malaysia, Singapore - all across the world so that she could adopt another country as home. He recited me an incident of when he was standing with his mother on the bank of lake Geneva and watching the sunset - he told his mom, "This is heaven! Look at that, it is so beautiful. Standing here you can see heaven." His mom hesitated a bit, and then after a short delay said, "When I stand in the balcony in our house in Beirut - I see heaven."
I do not have such a balcony in which I can stand and see heaven.
Its not that I am confused, torn apart or undecided - I just do feel a sense of belongingness. It is this very same reason that I used to enter chat rooms with the nick "Nomadic Yawn" (the yawn because of my God given gift of being able to sleep anywhere, anytime and in any position).
I am still searching for "home". For that balcony from where I will be able to see heaven.
Guess that is life. Everything old has to be replaced by something new.
A reason for me not being able to associate with Kuwait is this very fact. It takes away my willingess to have an association of belongingness with it. If I could, I would have never let 'my home' to be brought down. But alas ! It does not work that way here.
For 17 years, Kuwait has adopted me, and for 8 years I adopted Bombay.
But at either of these places I don't feel at home.
Just straying off a bit, I met someone who is from Lebanon. He took his mother to Canada, Switzerland, Malaysia, Singapore - all across the world so that she could adopt another country as home. He recited me an incident of when he was standing with his mother on the bank of lake Geneva and watching the sunset - he told his mom, "This is heaven! Look at that, it is so beautiful. Standing here you can see heaven." His mom hesitated a bit, and then after a short delay said, "When I stand in the balcony in our house in Beirut - I see heaven."
I do not have such a balcony in which I can stand and see heaven.
Its not that I am confused, torn apart or undecided - I just do feel a sense of belongingness. It is this very same reason that I used to enter chat rooms with the nick "Nomadic Yawn" (the yawn because of my God given gift of being able to sleep anywhere, anytime and in any position).
I am still searching for "home". For that balcony from where I will be able to see heaven.
scribbled by Razaldo at
10:36 am
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