You are made of Places and People
When I wrote the first draft of this piece, I was so nostalgic that I had to go take a walk. That’s probably why this one means a little more…
So, if you follow me on any platform, you probably saw me go to Chennai for a day (it was everywhere). But what social media didn’t show you—was the real story. And you know I love a good story.
It started 50 years ago when my parents were born. Though they're total opposites, they both grew up in the same city. Every time they go back to their hometowns, they always meet the same people, recall the same sweet memories and look like they have finally found their way back home.
Me? I spent most of my childhood in Chennai. And it was painful—because culture shock came in swinging. It never truly felt like I fit in. Maybe it was because I didn’t have a big friend circle. Or because I was a certified homebody with a PhD in “Books and no social life.” But the vibe never clicked.
I would often complain to my parents that I don’t have any place I can really call "home." So when I recently got a chance to go back to Chennai for a day (to meet the two friends I made in 12 years lol), I was skeptical. But I went. And boy do I not regret it at all!
Visiting my school after six years, walking past the same streets where I used to rash drive my bicycle—it all just hit different. It didn’t exactly feel like home, but it did feel like a much needed warm hug from an old friend.
And suddenly, I wanted to go back in time. Not just to the streets, but to the chaos, the people, the memories—even the ones I used to cringe about. Heck, I even missed the people I fought with. (Who am I?)
That day, it hit me: I never really left Chennai. A part of me stayed behind and will always be there, quietly calling me back—every chance it gets. (Yes, even in this heat that’s basically cooking)
You know my whole life, I’ve had this narrative running in my head that I don’t truly belong anywhere. But somewhere along the way, Chennai carved out a soft, mushy corner in my heart. And so did Bangalore. Now, I feel like a little collage made of all my favourite places—tiny moments, little people, weird stories. And maybe that’s what life is supposed to be.
It didn’t always feel perfect. But this is my story. And right here, right now—I’m claiming it. Owning it. Romanticizing it even. All of it. Even the messy bits. Especially the messy bits.
Because maybe that’s what life is really about: being okay with the chaos, making memes out of the pain, and finding peace in the places you didn’t even know meant something to you.
Cheers!