coming home

I’m happy to be alive.
To be in Bombay.
To have a home.
To be surrounded by people who love me — not because I give them something, but just because I exist.

That’s such a big deal.
I feel grateful for so much of it.

I like telling my friends, “I reached home after a tiring day.”
It feels good to have someone who wants to know that.
In the US, I didn’t feel that. Everything felt transactional — even relationships. Not all, of course. I do have good friends who stuck around, and I love them. But mostly it felt like… I was just a service. A slot. A role.

I left because I was exhausted. Burnt out.
I came back because I needed to feel again.
To feel love that didn’t demand proof of value.
To be with people who saw me as I am.

And it helped.
I did heal.