Where the heart lives

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?

I crushed the disposable cup which was initially full of tea when I had received it from a very hardworking tea vendor nearby. I threw the crushed cup in a dustbin, then exhaled partly hoping to see some breath vapor, but there wasn’t any. It seemed the air still lacked the required touch of cold. Winter was surely taking its own time to arrive.
I returned to my seat and picked up the book which I had kept on my seat before leaving to throw the cup. I was in a railway station waiting area, my train was late. I was returning home after a week-long journey. I walked out on the platform with my bag to observe around a bit.
I paused and then opened the book on the page where I had placed the receipt of the book as a bookmark. I possessed no previous knowledge of the book or its writer, but I have great respect for people who have the courage and passion to move ahead with their dream of writing. I have met endless people who wanted to write but didn’t, I myself was one of them once.
I gave glance at the page before keeping the book in the bag to read it later. The book was about different scenarios during wars, soldiers braving it out, wishing to walk out of it alive, dreaming of seeing their family once again, hoping for a normal future, picturing themselves in the warmth of their home.
I realised, even if I wasn’t in a similar scenario my heart would always yearn to be at home whenever I am outside. It’s the place I would always love be in and at that moment my home was the only place I could think of wanting to be in the whole wide world.
A passing train brought with it a wave of cool air with the slipstream it created.

Written by Anuran Chatterji

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