Missing The Fantasy

I had no idea that the longing to go home would be this strong. I try desperately to be optimistic. Yet each time my thoughts drift back to Dubai and I know I am fighting a losing battle.

Optimism swoops in once again and I think perhaps I will lose the battle but surely not the war. But I do not know if it is the war of my life that I aim to win or the war of change.

I look out my window to see a place I never thought I would live in. Sure, India was home for a month once every two years. But being away from this place for three years has not made me long to be here.

Facing reality that I will have to make this my home, atleast for the next three years has made me rebellious. I was never the rebellious kind, and therefore when I say 'rebellious' I mean that smidgen of resentment that is etched in the corner of my mind and heart. I refuse to make this my home. It will never be home. Dubai will forever be my home and I will go back to it. These are the thoughts that possess me these days. And I strive to run away from them. Fighting a losing battle.

I hope this is only a phase. And I guess I'm following Nature's Process of one that has been moved from its habitat. I hope some day in the near future I can look back on this day and laugh at these thoughts that plauge my mind at this moment.

Upon reaching India, I found myself constantly comparing every little detail. Complaining may be a way to vent out that frustration. I never do like to build up frustration.

Everything is different here. The roads, the people, the weather, the buildings, the food, the beds, the homes. Every thing I see and touch is different, so different that I remember how it used to be. I remember the comforts. And my mind, body and heart ache for familiarity.
I've written before that my friend described India as 'real.'

But if this is reality, I'd opt for the fantasy any day.