“Hold on, hold on” the conductor shouted, “Nimmakuru yevarandi?” (who will be getting down at Nimmakuru?), he banged the door with the punching tool in his hand. The red bus came to a halt and we got down. I was clutching my granny’s hand tightly. She put her hand around my shoulder, I could hear the message in her warm hands, “everything will be alright, and you will learn how to manage yourself”. After finishing the admission formalities she left me at the 5th class hostel room and left to Machilipatnam in the next bus.

I was 10 at that time, and that night was my first night away from house. It was the first night away from house for most of the boys in the dormitory. Suddenly one boy started crying loudly as he remembered his mom. In no time, all of us were crying and warden came along to console us. Later that night some seniors from 6th class told us to be bold and calm.

Its been more than 15 years since that night, but the familiar feeling of loneliness and imminent change always hits me whenever I leave the house. Whether it is to Kakinada to do diploma or to Vizag to do engineering or to Indore to do MBA or to Khandala to join in TCS, every time I pack my bags I feel like I am leaving behind my heart and soul.

But it is amazing how each time we could find new people and new friends and new ways of life. We are definitely so much more accommodating than we think.

Earlier Blah [1, 2]

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