As I write this, sitting under a moonlit sky, the only word which comes to my mind is “HOME”- Home Sweet Home. A place which has a zillion cherished memories – sweet and sour. Memories of my mom feeding me with her hands; back then even the most bitter “karela” tasted sweet and now even the sweetest sweetdish tastes sour. Memories of the gala time spent with my father which often ended with an intellectual discussion. He was the biggest source of information for me. To put it right, he was my personal brand of “ENCYCLOPAEDIA”. Memories of my “BELOVED” sister who means the whole world to me. Her sweetness hidden behind her simplicity. Her selflessness reflected in her every action. Memories of the lullabies my grandmother used to sing, to put me to sleep. Her caress was the most heavenly feeling I have ever felt. Memories of my grandfather whose life-enriching morals taught me the right way to lead a life. Memories of my friends who taught me a lot about life, much more than my parents could. Their effort to pull me out of depression at times and put me on the right path.
All these bring tears in my eyes. Tears of joy. Tears of laughter. Tears of all the wonderful moments spent together. But, one thing reassuring me every time about my family’s happiness is “THE STORY OF MY JOURNEY TO MUMBAI- The Story Of My Sucess.”
So, I wipe off the tears from my eyes for am sure that behind every tear rolling down my family’s cheeks is the happiness for my success and not the sorrow for my departure.
