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Unforgotten tale (part 2)
Where the Heart Belongs
The plane hummed steadily as Meera leaned against the cold window, clutching the scarf Amma had given her. It carried the faint scent of jasmine and rain, and with it, the memories of a life she thought she had left behind. Her mind swirled with images of Amma’s warm embrace, the children’s laughter at the school, and Arjun’s steady gaze under the banyan tree. She tried to shake it off, tried to tell herself she was going back to the life she had built for herself. A life she had worked so hard for.
But even as she stepped off the plane and into the familiar hustle of the airport, something felt wrong. The bustling streets and towering buildings of the city she had called home for years felt alien now. When she opened the door to her apartment, the silence was deafening. She placed her suitcase down, walked to the window, and stared at the city lights blinking against the night. It was all so beautiful. It was everything she had wanted. But why did it feel so empty?
The next morning, she threw herself into work. Emails, calls, presentations; she drowned herself in them, hoping to silence the thoughts that clung to her like shadows. But no matter how busy she kept herself, the memories crept in.
A photo in a magazine about rural schools reminded her of the children drawing colorful murals on the school walls. The smell of coffee in the office pantry transported her to the mornings when Amma would hand her a steaming cup, saying, “Drink this before it gets cold.” And every time she passed by her notebook, the sketches of the school and the plans she had made with Arjun stared back at her like ghosts from another life.
She tried harder. She stayed late at work, took on extra projects, and even signed up for a weekend workshop. But nothing worked. The city, with its constant buzz and...
The plane hummed steadily as Meera leaned against the cold window, clutching the scarf Amma had given her. It carried the faint scent of jasmine and rain, and with it, the memories of a life she thought she had left behind. Her mind swirled with images of Amma’s warm embrace, the children’s laughter at the school, and Arjun’s steady gaze under the banyan tree. She tried to shake it off, tried to tell herself she was going back to the life she had built for herself. A life she had worked so hard for.
But even as she stepped off the plane and into the familiar hustle of the airport, something felt wrong. The bustling streets and towering buildings of the city she had called home for years felt alien now. When she opened the door to her apartment, the silence was deafening. She placed her suitcase down, walked to the window, and stared at the city lights blinking against the night. It was all so beautiful. It was everything she had wanted. But why did it feel so empty?
The next morning, she threw herself into work. Emails, calls, presentations; she drowned herself in them, hoping to silence the thoughts that clung to her like shadows. But no matter how busy she kept herself, the memories crept in.
A photo in a magazine about rural schools reminded her of the children drawing colorful murals on the school walls. The smell of coffee in the office pantry transported her to the mornings when Amma would hand her a steaming cup, saying, “Drink this before it gets cold.” And every time she passed by her notebook, the sketches of the school and the plans she had made with Arjun stared back at her like ghosts from another life.
She tried harder. She stayed late at work, took on extra projects, and even signed up for a weekend workshop. But nothing worked. The city, with its constant buzz and...
