Abstract 

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In the two years since leaving my beloved hometown of Kolkata, I've embarked on a journey of self-discovery and  adaptation to new cities, from Mumbai to Delhi. Each step has been marked by a sense of loss, followed by acceptance  and a growing connection to the diverse cities I've called home. This essay chronicles the evolution of my relationship  with these new places, revealing the complex emotions and yearning for the familiarity of Kolkata that have shaped my  personal growth. As I reflect on my experiences, I've come to understand that the concept of "home" is not tied to a  specific location but is a part of who I am, wherever I go. 

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Just a few months ago, I completed two years of leaving my hometown, Kolkata. Honestly, at the time when I left that  place, I was elated to get away from a city where I had been since childhood. Durga Puja seemed monotonous each year,  and it wasn't the emotional goodbye we see in movies. In fact, I was super excited and eagerly looking forward to what  seemed like the beginning of my adulthood. All of this continued until the last car ride to Howrah Station. I clearly  remember it was 6 am on the morning of September 29th, 2021, and I was in a cab with my siblings, heading to Howrah  Station, where I would board a train and eventually leave the city. 

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During this particular ride, I experienced a strange emotion with the slightest hint of loss. As the car passed by  Ballygunge, Park Street, Eden Gardens, Dalhousie, and those innumerable red buildings that seemed frozen in time, I felt  as if I was never going to be the same. It was as if I was losing a significant part of myself. Those places held memories  for me, some of which had been created quite recently. For a moment, just a moment, I felt like maybe I had made the  wrong decision. But only for a moment. At that instant, my conscience kicked in, and I knew this change was inevitable. I  pushed away all doubts and focused on the adventures that lay ahead of me. And so, I bid farewell to a part of myself. 

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I moved to Mumbai, and this place was nothing like Kolkata. There was a rush and hustle, so unlike the calm and  serenity I was used to. Call it the "Bangali laid-back attitude" or the "hurly-burly of Mumbaikars"; I wasn't entirely  comfortable with the transition. Now that I think of it, it strikes me as ironic that the transition from the "City of Joy" to  the "City of Dreams" is never easy. And I made peace with it, or would you call it a temporary compromise? I knew that  it was only a few months before I got into Delhi University and would eventually move to the place I had dreamt of  going. Secretly, I prayed, "Please, God, I hope that I really like Delhi. I hope it's nothing like Mumbai." 

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In February 2022, I shifted to the capital. It was my first time in a totally unknown, strange new city. I was alone, but I  was thrilled – young blood, they say. Delhi was kind to me, at least kinder than Mumbai. I wouldn't say I loved Delhi, but  I had made peace with this place. It was no longer an uncomfortable compromise. Within a month of my stay, I became  a Dilli wali. The customs of this place had their effect on me, and I was no longer intimidated by the different shades of  the metro lines, the random abuses, or the huge, confusing signal crossings.

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Delhi is a city of diversities, and people not from Delhi might relate to me about meeting people from all over the  country. It's often quite enriching to talk to such people. However, I realized how much I missed being in Kolkata. I  would envy friends back home who could enjoy Saraswati Puja, Vishwakarma Puja, Jagadatri Puja, Kali Puja, and  Christmas in Kolkata. I noticed that, although Delhi was a city of diversities, it wasn't as culturally rich as Kolkata. What kind of Saraswati Puja is it unless I see girls and boys dressed in kurtas and sarees, laughing and chatting at a Saraswati  Puja pandal on the roadside? But I got used to it. Whenever I met someone from Kolkata or remotely connected to  Bengal, my heart would do a mini somersault. It may sound silly, but I would do random things just to feel like I was back  in Kolkata. Listening to Sunday Suspense Podcasts while working, adding Bengali songs to my playlist that I faintly  remembered hearing in Kolkata, and watching Feluda Movies became my newfound hobbies. Alongside songs like  'Preme Pora Baron,' songs like 'Insane,' 'Pavizha Mazhaye,' and 'Cruel Summer' also found their place in my list of liked  songs. 

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Even though the address on my Aadhaar Card was no longer Kolkata, I always introduced myself as belonging to Kolkata.  A year later, when I revisited the city for a vacation, it was phenomenal. I began to appreciate all the little  inconsequential things more. This time, I was an outsider. I was home but still felt like a guest. Much had changed, but  so much felt the same. Kolkata had its warmth, and I felt it, but that place seemed distant. It saddened me that I would  never be able to get back the part of me that I had lost. A piece of me was still there in that city, and I doubt if any other  place can ever replace my love for Kolkata. But again, I wonder, was it the city I was missing, or was it the people and  comfort I had experienced there? The memories I had made and the dreams I had dreamt? That question remains  unanswered as of now.

 

I feel that leaving home is a process. To begin with, you can't wait to go. When it's time, you're not sure at all. When you  get to where you were going, you miss home. Either way, home stays with you wherever you go. As hard as it is, I feel  that we must all leave home at least once in our life. If we were meant to stay in one place, we would have roots instead  of feet. It isn't until you let go of something that you realize its value. So here I am, writing my heart out, and  simultaneously making a mental note to visit CR Park this Ashtami. It's crazy how we do the littlest of things just to be reminded of the good old times!