I spent a little more than the planned number of days at my company Headquarters in Gurgaon this month, and I feel the earnest need for a spa or head massage when I head back home.
Something about this place gives me creeps and makes me uncomfortable with life here. Whether it is the local dialect, the pollution in the air, the lack of moisture or the terrible roads, I don’t know.
The roads sport massive craters, each of which make walking tough and the soles of your shoe to tear. My inherent bangali self finds the air dry and the heat worse due to lack of humidity in G town.
For work, the place is marvellous because there’s vision, larger picture, board room conversations which is a deep contrast to the chai-adda meetings back home and the take-each-day-as-it-comes approach for all decision making.
I like the place for its emerging startups for everything from car cleaners to cloud kitchens and momo deliveries to pizzas grilled by the road. But I miss my jhal muri and I miss the heat induced quench for Coke which makes me walk to the shop to earn it as against the clicks on an App which brings me buttermilk and lemonade, in Gurgaon.
It rained here all night one time and I woke up to a cloudy, grey sky; enjoying pleasant weather as I walked to office from my place of stay. I missed the smell of rain which my brain and sense organs associate with every slight drizzle.
New places make me happy only for a few days. After the clock and the calendar tick by, my head and heart cease slowly into a shell looking for things that bring comfort, warmth and peace.
Mother tells me that the dal, bhaat, alu bhaja await my return and I hope that the head massage that follows puts me to deep sleep that I’m longing for.