Back at my place..

Home is where the heart is. That is the most famous slogan known. Even the number of times Jerry (from Tom and Jerry) puts up that sign over his mouse hole is amazing. But, what is home. Is it where your parents are. Is it the place which you are allowed to call your own room at your parents house. Or is "home" even allowed to be used for that place where you've slept for most of the year with the other people in the hostel? The place where you have enjoyed so many times. Where is home?
For most of the year, I have sat in my hostel room saying to myself and sometimes to my friends, that I miss "home". Yet, now that I am here with my parents, I have nearly wept and told my mother, I want to go away from here. Why? Because my friends are not here.
So, basically, I want to be with my family when I am in the hostel; and with my friends when I am back with my parents. Why so? Why is it so hard to just be able to be where I am and simply enjoy whatever is happening around me? It is a little strange, but that is how it is.
In the dead of the night, I walk out into my balcony and holding on to the railing, I let the cool breeze twirl around my hair. And I am reminded of the times I enjoyed with my friends. The times when they sang the songs of Jodha-Akbar for me the day I wore a salwaar-kameez to class. The times when we all went off to the near by market and drove back in time for the exam which was already going on. The time when we played the kiddish games outside the classroom, with a faculty member alongside. The times we spent blabbing and singing just about anything till the dead of the night turned to dawn, with the breeze touching my cheeks, reminding me of my mother's warm hugs, cheery smiles and my father's adored pampering!
Wherever home is, I know I will always have two, one with my friends...the other with my family. And in the end, I will always have to miss one.