Going Home

Loved the feeling of "going home", enjoyed the anticipation each second i know i am closer to home. The airlines been a little messed up this period. A trip up to Mumbai from Bangalore and back to Singapore, bypassing Bangalore. Not too bad though; screened a good movie " Badmash Company" on Air India.

Touched homeland, grabbed a cab and wow " smooth journey" for some times since. For a moment, i thought i probably will knocked on the wrong door. Ten years of habits, the blue gate, the shoes rack--- i pressed the bell.

The door opened, ma ma face popped from behind the door with a smile, " Ah Leng, you're back!". Then pa pa at the back, " leng leng.. you good?" They had not grown older any inch, with radiance.  I thought Dad's had finally gotten a little more hair and mum's has few missing facial lines.

And we started chatting for the whole morning. Dad's tired eyes brightened up when we talked about the tea plantation and the coffee in India. And wanting deliver our own piece of story to share. The laughter was good and heart-warming.

Home. The house doesn't matter. The location is not important. The roots lie not in any particular land; its the bonding that deep rooted in each of our heart.

Home is not build by pieces of bricks and cement; but with unconditional love, trust and faith. A sacred place where we start discovering our real self.

To go home, first... i have to go out.