In the race to move ahead , the baggage of dreams and expectations does leave behind something we never want to lose. Something that we call our identity.

The city that speaks so much lost somewhere in the move it made from where it used to be to where it was now trying to make a mark. Just like the ‘NRI babu’ who took had moved out from a place where he belonged to the place he created a name. Strange it is but true that we always forget who we are and what we are in this façade of modernisation. The city was there too but a makeover it did seem for it. A move is always required for a change, a change that can give you growth and can help you to exist in this fast changing scenario. In this move that both make somewhere we lose our originality and it’s commendable if you could blend in both. The city grows with its people and a person needs to change in order to grow. Yet for the growth he or she wants to make the move is necessary.

Something changes for both of them, they are torn apart. While one wants to be just there where it was the other part wants to move away . Similarly a corner of your heart speaks to you, pleading to stay where you belong. The mind speaks about progress, compelling you to move. The city stays there but you change your address.

It was almost six years now that I came back to my city. The time my flight landed at the airport I felt something inside, a feeling I cannot explain. Once you start living in a different country, it might feel wonderful, but once you land in your own country and your own city it is so overwhelming. I took a cab and was out of the airport. I kept looking out of the car to get the feel of the place. I remembered the day when I was leaving and how difficult it was to hold myself back. I was to now shift not only from my city to a new but also from my culture to the other. Today I was finally coming home, to my city.

It had just been about twenty minutes into the city that it just felt I was in a completely new place. I think modern infrastructures have given a new identity to every place. Roads seemed wider, the twists and turns were now overshadowed by the flyovers where the car would just race down without getting into the traffic snarls. I think the city had learnt to live with the times and adapted itself.

I was nearing home and it really gave me goose bumps because here I was back to the place I belonged. I believe this part of the city still preserved its identity, though today it was referred to as the "old city". As I turned to the lane leading to my house I saw the tea and sweet shop just there. I used to accompany my father to these shops as a child. The shopkeeper all with his grey hair took time to recognise who I was but I remembered him with his huge grin that still looked as cute as it was then. He with his lad who had now grown big but still stuck with his name 'chotu' waved at me shouting 'NRI babu', with me just waving back. There stood the long line of hand rickshaws all parked one after the other. The occasional ringing of the bell in the temple , so lovely to hear. Every step I took was nostalgic and soon I realised every corner and every turn of this road. I wanted to just walk down and what was strange was the contrast to what I had seen once I was out of the airport. The old world charm , the tram, kept moving alongside my car. So nostalgic !The old city charm, the vibes, the heritage all like a canvas in front of my eyes. This was where I wanted to be, this was where the city I left was and this was the identity of my city. No matter where we are, no matter where we go, the old city, the memories stay captured within us like those ancient walls that hold on, trying to preserve the remnants of the heritage. I had reached just outside my gate, standing for ten minutes just looking at this old mansion. Happy was I that my father had still preserved the old charm of this building, all newly painted and done up but not losing it's identity. The warmth of your people, your family is something we all cherish. The welcome to my own home was something I did miss. Here I was to stay now forever .

The ride from the airport was a journey from the modern city to the old which was in itself alive even though it had parted with most of it just to exist as a reminder of what it used to be. This 'NRI babu' was to reside here enjoying the heritage and culture of this slow paced old but ‘Real city’ which had stood here holding on to its originality.

Yes we all might chase our dreams. Dreams that take us far away but what stays behind is just that little piece that we cannot break away from. What is it that stays here while you reside far away? This feeling might be true for a few but there are many who just leave behind everything and everyone. They do occasionally come back but what comes with them is growth that you see in everything they have, they conversation and their behaviour. They do visit but just for a change , rather a break and to assure you they are there if not physically present all the time. Yet in each one of them there is a remnant of who they were and what they liked or they miss. It could be the most simplest of things . The ‘NRI babu’ washappy because he needs not miss anything now. He was here to settle down amongst his own people. He had made progress but not just for himself but for his city. He had moved out to learn the intricacies of the new world . He had now grown and understood and was here to make a mark not only for himself but for the place where he belonged. The Real city had given him opportunities to move ahead and now he could merge the concepts of the modern world while preserving and enhancing the culture, heritage and originality of the city that was his pen.

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