My days at "B2, Nehru Residency, Post Office Lane, Cyberabad 500081", long 18 months of them, were labelled and marked, in 3 boxes and 3 bags. This was all what was accompanying me back home with the bike, on a Volvo 9400.
There was the initial bliss in my own Platinum Debit Card and an eventual much denied Credit Card; which made sure, I got back home, not with an extra penny than for my immediate relocation needs here in Cochin. Now then, what is Appa and Amma for? Live in the home, they made. Eat the food, that they worked for. Wear things for which they paid !!
The boxes are yet to be thrown out after arranging the contents, to the satisfaction of my obsessive disorder with cleanliness. The 3 boxes and bags are still against the wall, beside my old chair. And I sat imparting gyaan to my little cousin sister, "Never bring home, any dirt, in the form of substance and people !!" She nods her head, but her face says, "yeah yeah, see who is speaking."
I tell her, I did keep the substance and people away, baring when the substance was inside me and I knew, I would behave and not embarrass myself. The couple of times, I have been let down, has been cause of some friend and never myself, at home. Her stare lingered an extra while, and asked the question, "what about the time, couple of months back, when you got drunk alone on a whole bottle and took a leak on the settee in the common room, in the middle of night, with uncle and aunty watching the whole scene, because they were not yet done with their prayers!! I heard they did not interrupt and let you go back to sleep after the act, but did ask you to clean it yourself in the morning?"
Boy wow, I sure need to unpack the 3 boxes and 3 bags from Hyderabad !!
((NB: The picture posted was after the wild 48 hours in Hyderabad, with rum and rum and rum. I couldn't stand up to move from the frame, when Visakh wanted to take a picture of me ready to leave. This was the only picture, I have got of my bags and boxes. And the little one in the front, the orange one, was my 'tool-kit', with the chillums and the cork openers and many a brother of theirs. It didn't make its way back home with me. And yup, you could ignore the 'me' wearing the glasses, because of blood shot eyes, with a clueless smile in the picture ))