If I could live my life again....

A flight from Chennai to Singapore is not fun. Specially when two infants in opposite rows are having a screaming match. It's some what like a pendulum - one without a damping factor. All is peaceful for a few moments. The second I start thanking the fates for sparing me this time, the one in the seat in front of me start wailing. The one in the adjacent row takes the cues and starts going on at full volume at once. They are in perfect co-ordination. They take turns like they went for screaming lessons for years together. It sounds somewhat like this :

#1 :....Waaaaah

#2:...................Waaaaaah

#1:...................................Waaaaaah

#2...................................................Waaaaaah

#1....................................................................WAAAAAAAAH

#2...............................................................................................WAAAAAAAAH

Well, you get the idea. If only SJ Suryah had been on the flight, he's have made an amazing movie on how it was in the fates of these screamers to unite in holy matrimony later in life.

Anyway, I couldn't sleep, so I sat and thought about things. This process generally leaves me much more confused than I generally am in life...Since I was just coming back to mokkapore after an amazing week at home, I couldn't help but think.. If I had to make some decisions in life again...would I choose to leave home at 17 years of age and go to Singapore for my education?

I am very thankful for the taste of independence that I got at an early age that has made me what I am today. The absolute freedom to do what I want to and be accountable for my actions, financial independence, a very close circle of friends, new lifestyle and its consequences.... the list is endless.

But at what cost? It is only at home that the concept of unconditional love exists. I do not have t think if my statements will be mis interpreted. I do not have to worry if I will be judged on what I wear.

Every time I visit my hometown, the culture of the place, in all its glory and dirtiness, engulfs me and makes me feel like I belong to there. There is no dearth of good food.

At home, there is the luxury sharing everyday joys and tears with people you love (and the same people love you back!). Once back in my own world, the facade of the bravado has to go on, leaving a tingling feeling that maybe i grew up too fast?

The worst part about visiting home is the return journey... The sinking feeling in my stomach on the day I leave - the uncertainty of when I would visit next - would I ever get to live at my home again? as my parents' daughter and experience the nice-ities and the not-so-niceities of staying at home?

Yet, If I could live my life again.. What would I do? I am stumped. It would be absurd to say that I'd have been happy without my independence. equally absurd would be to say that I don't miss home or my parents and sister...Some questions just don't have any answers. Life just goes on....