Bits and pieces

It is happiness when a home is made in two years. When you leave it to return home, it is strange. And stranger when a teary farewell is involved, and that is followed by a joyful return.

It is hard to come to terms with the fact that I will probably never be able to spend as much time with the new friends made as I am used to doing now. We will meet again, that isn't the question at all, but under different circumstances. Things will change. Everything changes.

With an exception, I just realize - the feeling of home. It is the same, just as it was a year and a half earlier when I left it, just as it was many, many years earlier when I was born into it. The permanency of this place and the way I feel here suddenly now explain my absolutely unsentimental farewells in the Chennai airport (And with that, crashed my pride in being one of the unsentimental types. Damn)

But is this good? This taking comfort in things permanent? And this helplessness when faced with temporariness?