“I want to go home. I want to go home. I just want to go home…”
This has been a wish of mine since my first memories. That desperate, inconsolable desire to return to a place of safety and comfort, where I don’t feel alienated from anything.
It’s generally associated with hysterics, tears, or a deep sense of melancholy.
I have repeated that phrase more times than I can count.
Now, “home” has taken various shapes throughout the years. Perhaps as an infant, it was a longing for the comfort of the womb…I can’t be sure. When I was a child, it was clearly the house my parents lived in, or my nanny’s arms. As I got a bit older, home became the summer tours, where I felt I had a family around Amma. In my teenaged years, it was Amritapuri…
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