It has been almost three years since I resigned myself to
being a resident of this largely urban town called Manipal. I have lived in
Chennai all my life and I make it no secret, Chennai is my greatest love, as a
place, a home, a connection. Every inch of asphalt I’ve trudged upon and every
piece of sky I’ve wandered under can tell you of my incessant banter on the
occasion of this subject being raised. The feeling that comes to me from being
on Chennai’s streets is, I’m not exaggerating, quite unparalleled. And I’m sure
many would agree with me on this about your own hometowns.
So, whenever the question of Manipal being a second home
arose, my unwavering heart always had the same answer. Do not get me wrong there!
I am not incapable of accepting a second place as home. I have housed great
longing and fascination for numerous places, which I one day hope to make my
home. That fascination, however, evaded me in Manipal. Until today.
The rather overly normal events of today that brought this
change began with a book. As I read the last page of the book and shut it with
my sigh of satisfied completion, I sat in my room, clueless about my next
course of action. Right then, my window presented to me an image extremely inviting
and pleasant, like none I had witnessed lately. The world had turned yellow.
The sky, the footpath, the trees, the very air, everything was yellow, like a playful
child had overturned an enormous paint bucket, setting off a beautiful accident.
I pulled on my pants and bounded down the stairs and out
into the yellow fabric, impatient to be part of it. Before I proceed with the
rest of the evening, I should mention that I have been on many a solitary walk
in Manipal, but I do not recall one for the sheer joy of it. As I walked into
the captivating evening, I was beginning to have a conversation of firsts.
Walking the streets, I truly went down memory lane, thinking about my initial
days and thoughts of Manipal. The tiny toy houses that once made me smile out
of amazement now brought me an old-friend smile. The quiet corners, the bustling
junctions, the beauty that has become an everyday thing, does not fascinate me
anymore like a mysterious person I am eager to know. They are like family now,
just their presence is reassuring.
As I walked around having these conversations in my head, I
realised how comfortable I had grown in its skin. It here being, of course,
Manipal. I could be in every one of its streets, nooks and crannies, and I
wouldn’t feel a shred of “alien”. I will always be an old resident, going about
the place, unafraid of being lost and going as far as to forsake any conscious
attention to my surroundings, letting my seasoned legs do the guiding. If you
have stayed in this charming little town on the west coast for long enough, you
get the privilege of such lethargy.
Manipal is not a place I want to make my home in the future. It is already that for my four years here. But it is a place I would go to if I needed to get away from the everydayness of life for some familiar comfort and much-needed lethargy. It would always be that old friend waiting with a beer (lemonade? Iced lime? ) in hand.
