It was beautiful but not immediately. I was afraid but not for long. I was longing for something I did get eventually.
It is funny town. People here want to learn Hindi so they can survive in the rest of the India. We in the rest of the India are taught English so we can survive in school that is in the next neighborhood.
They go to big cities to breathe a new air. Air of opportunities to prove oneself, to showcase their myriad talents that have till now been packed up in tiny boxes of their people’s minds.
We come to their small cities to breathe a fresh air where nobody is a stranger and everybody is a friend. Where we meet ourselves in the tiny boxes that are their houses.
Our distracted big city minds find solace in their cozy walls that come down on us wrapping us into their arms, showering us with so much attention, we almost cannot bear it.
Their trapped small city minds want to jump into the vast oceans of the big city. They find peace in being truly seen for all the talents they have been nurturing discreetly, usually in plain sight.
One such lover of small towns like me, bent down to exchange a cigarette from his village with a cigarette from the small towner. Exchanging whiffs of the worlds they belong(ed) to.
That is what binds us all, the wish to leave our homes, the will to hunt for whiffs of other worlds.