Calcutta is my family. With all its flaws, it is still home and still comforting; and in a weird way, it is mine more than any other place.
Boston is the one I married. Knowingly. I chose it. I loved it. I hated it. I know it. It was the logical right choice for me.
PS: I have made some choices. I have put a hammock in it.
Chicago is the one that got away. I could have gone that route. I could have made some different calls, taken some different decisions.
This one is not your home, this city is your walk of shame. Your room to bathroom, house to another house. House to hotel. Boyfriend to friends. Friends to mother. Too real. Too unreal. Too fake. Too many times. Not enough times. Yours but not really. The city of rug being pulled away from under your feet. The city you would run away to. The city everyone runs away to. The city people love to hate and hate to love. The city of friends. The city of compromise. The city you never traveled to. The city you never lived in. The city that never called you, but you kept going to anyway…Bangalore
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