Looking Back

I want to go far away from a tired, dishevelled existence.
I want to go back and bask in the familiarity that I’d once callously ignored.
I want to go back to the place that I once detested and loved in equal measure.
I want to curl up in the warmth of the coffee vapours that were taken for granted every morning,
In the innate smell that my mother’s sarees hold,
In the knowledge that it will be okay.
I want to return to a place that I shunned and sought to escape.
Where security stifled freedom and notions of independence danced out of reach.
I want to go back to a smouldering wreck, a place that is a faint shadow of what it once was.
Had I known of the strife that would one day tear it apart, I might have stayed back to hold the fractured pieces together.
I want to go back to the scent of familiarity.
I want to go home.