Not all who wander are lost

We all love discussing places — the town where we were born, the city where we attended college, the country which we visited on our first foreign vacation. Discussing places is almost as much fun as discussing people and much less guilt-inducing. Often, these discussions turn into full-fledged arguments. Is Mumbai better than Delhi? What is wrong with the auto drivers in Bangalore? Doesn’t Pune have the coolest crowd? Does Kolkata even qualify as a metro? 
This topic is usually greeted with enthusiasm by most people as this is a subject on which everyone can claim to have some experience. I, myself, admit to having participated in more than my fair share of arguments on this topic (though I guess I’ve participated in more than my fair share of arguments on most topics). But recently when I moved back to Kolkata after having spent five years away, the realization dawned on me that I had actually lived in five different cities over these five years. I started with the usual suspects — Delhi, Bangalore, Mumbai and went on to the slightly offbeat — Pune and Jaipur. Now, while I have spent a lot of time discussing the pros and cons of each place I have called home from a practical point of view, I have never really talked about how each of these cities affected me as an individual. And how they have helped me grow as a person.

So all cynicism and arguments aside, this is an ode to all the places I have lived and loved and the most important thing I have learnt from each one of them.

I left for Delhi on a summer afternoon in 2010, from the Sealdah station, having purchased a one way ticket out of Kolkata for the first time in 21 years. I was petrified and my parents probably sensing that, insisted on accompanying me to set me up at the hostel. For the entire week that they were there, I spent every night at their hotel and after they left, I spent close to a month crying into my pillow (embarrassing but true). Being used to hanging around the same weird gang for more than a decade in Kolkata, I had practically forgotten the art of making friends. Instead of engaging in customary small talk and trying to make friends with the people around me whom I mostly didn’t identify with, I preferred to spend my free time alone, reading books and travelling to CR Park, simply to listen to passersby speaking in Bengali, to create an illusion of belonging. Then one night, I responded to an email from one of my batch-mates, who was looking for a final member for a marketing project group. And clichéd though it sounds, the rest is history, because that night, I met the soon-to-be second weird gang of my life. I arrived in Delhi feeling like a misfit, but Delhi taught me that wherever you go, there will always be some people who are as out of place as you think you are. Also, while reading is a great habit, once in a while you need to take your nose out of that book to find those people. But find them you will.

In the summer of 2011, I found myself, rather unwillingly, in Bangalore, having landed there for an internship. My first impression of the place was negative (which, to be fair to the city, tends to be my first impression of almost everything). But the good thing was I would be living with one of my good friends there, so how bad could it really get? Well, it did. My friend had just started her job and was busy most nights. My internship, being my first taste of corporate life, was frustrating too and we hardly managed to find time together. Possibly that’s why the most vivid memory I have of Bangalore was travelling back to the tiny place my friend was renting in Domlur, battling the infamous Bangalore traffic for an hour and buying a boiled corn cob from an old lady near our place, on the way back. I used to do this every day. For almost two months. From the same old lady. And she would always fish out an especially juicy portion for me from the large aluminium dish. She didn’t speak any Hindi and I didn’t speak any Kannada, but she always greeted me with a big smile which worked wonders for my mood. The day my internship ended and I packed my bags to leave, the day I purchased the very last corn cob from her, I remember almost crying. Because I knew I would never see this lady or buy an evening meal from her or return her broken-toothed smile after a rather frustrating day at work again. Bangalore taught me that while it’s great to spend time with friends and plan weekend trips and house parties, sometimes it’s the most trivial and almost boring details of your life that you end up missing the most. So keep looking out for excitement and adventure, but sometimes, do take a moment to appreciate the ordinary.

The next halt for me was Mumbai — the city that never sleeps. I have actually lived in Mumbai five times over the last five years for durations of around one to six months. In these five times, I have lived in five different parts of the city — from Colaba and Mahim to Jogeshwari, Powai and Vashi, worked in three different companies and five different office spaces and even been jobless for a blissful period of a month. And rather appropriately, the most important lesson I have learnt from the city which is known for its fast pace, is to accept rapid and often unexpected changes as a way of life. Some day, you might even get close to figuring out what the ending of Interstellar meant, but you are never going to figure out the answer to the “Where do you see yourself in (insert a number between 3 to 10) years?” question. So don’t stress yourself out if you don’t have a plan.

Now straying slightly off the beaten track with Pune. I lived in Pune for around three months in the beginning of 2013. I worked in a factory, had a six day work week where I was expected to report at 8.20 am everyday. Actually, “expected” isn’t the right word. I had to choose between swiping in by 8.20 am or saying goodbye to my salary for the day. Six of us girls, fresh out of business school, were thrown together into one small cabin in that factory, where we spent the better part of 8 hours every day, cribbing about our lives. And in spite of the awful food at the mess or the dress code or the ungodly hours or our frustration with the work environment, we actually managed to enjoy ourselves. While I knew that I had probably hit an all-time low, it was this experience in Pune that taught me that hitting rock bottom with great company can sometimes be better than flying sky high alone.

Then my wanderings led me to Jaipur — the city of forts and palaces. After Kolkata and Delhi, Jaipur is the place where I have lived in for the longest period of time at a stretch — almost one and a half years. The first time that I told my Mom I had been posted in Jaipur for work, her reaction was “Who works in Jaipur?”. After spending less than a week there, I realised that as usual, Mom was right. Very few people of my age actually did work in Jaipur. The city had its share of other sales managers like myself and while I did spend the odd weekend hanging out with them, on most evenings and weekends, I was alone. And it was Jaipur that probably taught me the most important lesson of my life — being alone can actually be a pretty wonderful experience. I remember going for my first movie alone there, I remember enjoying a quiet meal with my Kindle for company in one of my favourite cafés during Diwali, Christmas and other holidays when I couldn’t go home, I remember Friday nights spent with a bottle of wine and a tub of mint choco chip from Baskin Robbins for dinner while binge watching a sitcom. While that first month in Delhi or those two months in Bangalore taught me how to survive being alone, Jaipur was the first city that taught me how to enjoy being alone.

Finally, the prodigal daughter returned home to the city of joy in June 2015. I was planning to make a grand ending with Kolkata. But then I realized that if I start writing about all the things that Kolkata has taught me, this post is going to become uncomfortably long. I guess the very foundation of my personality has been built by this city. So anybody who knows me well enough (who will be the only ones reading this post, I suppose) will know how this slow, laid-back and delightfully mundane city has shaped me. In other words, you can thank Kolkata for the many more than ten things that you hate about me.

Five crazy years, five wonderful cities and dozens of memories. I know that this is a rather belated thank you, but it’s more than heartfelt. And even as I continue on my quest to find my final destination, here’s hoping for many more such years of wandering and hopefully never getting lost on the way.