On the Open Road

Dear Homies, We wandered far, with city lights in our eyes and dreams packed in our bags. But the compass always pointed back to you. This place that raised me, loved me, made me. Every street, every wave knows the smile of me and the laughter in me that is created by you. 

I broke through my biggest insecurity: my voice, thanks!

So, this is not some fancy or emotional write-up, and honestly, I have not done anything big or crazy compared to anyone. But every September, almost a million Indian students board flights with way too much luggage and way more emotions and to be precise it was 759,000 in 2024 alone. Madness, if you ask me. Because even before leaving, there’s already too much to handle. Months and months of documentations, emails, calls, overthinking, crying at 3 am, and then laughing five minutes later because nothing makes sense anymore. I might be one of them now. I dragged four big-ass suitcases with literally my whole room packed inside, chasing a dream or maybe just surviving whatever this might be.

Personally, this is a super idiotic decision. Because I was honestly happy in this city. Genuinely happy. This place gave me everything. Sports, badminton, music, wildness, films, food, work, school, college, and above all, people. The kind of people who shaped every part of me, made me laugh till I forgot the pain, let me be unfiltered, cranky, chaotic, and most importantly, stayed. They stayed when every other friendship slowly faded with time. Every Saturday, Sunday or even on some random Tuesday night, we’re standing outside a tea shop at 11:46 PM, making up stories to our parents just so we could stay a little longer. And somehow, that became a routine. 

I did not even realize how attached I was to this life. Until today, writing this on 25th August at 22:11 pm in a city were I am sitting alone and everyone are up there sleeping. It feels nothing for me right now, I haven’t realized it yet or I am not sure. For someone who acts super hyper-independent and all put-together, I have built a bubble I do not want to pop. And if any of you, my close circle of people, are reading this, just know I love you. Probably more than I say. Probably more than I even understand. 

August 17th is a date I won’t forget. My first ever international trip. But beyond the trip, it is the day I left behind a version of me that I really, really loved. And yeah, I will come back. I will come back to the same people or maybe run to them. But for the next 1.5 years, I am gonna pull myself out of a life that felt like home. That day felt very numb, I was trying to feel it but I was just escaping a lot. I didn’t realize I was loved this much. And I really didn’t know what I had done to actually feel this much, but I was proud to have them. I always will be. I entered the airport, and those 12 people who just came for me at 1.00 am to say something that we didn’t understand or weren’t willing to accept.

It all started with telling my friends I was going abroad and that I got into this B-School that I really liked. We started with 120 days and in the blink of an eye, it just went so fast. And then there’s this part I can’t ignore: the craziest, wildest, most magical time I’ve ever had in my life was always with them. We went on mad trips, random night drives, watched every single movie that hit the theatre, ate like pigs, and lived like we had no tomorrow. From making me get my first tattoo, to car rides with music blasting, to sitting aimlessly at some random shop, to meeting every single weekend without fail, it was like living in a dream I didn’t even know I had. Friendships that outgrew the old “hi-bye” nonsense and became something so pure and solid that I actually felt loved, like really loved, in a way I never thought possible. It may feel too much for others, but I was keeping this really low because what they are to me or what they have done for me is something that is unexplainable.

SO WHY THE FUCK I LEFT?

“Yes, my consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, barroom regulars—to be part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording—all is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and batter. Yes, God, I want to talk to everybody I can as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night. - Sylvia Path. 

But this is something I want to put it out. A part of me always wanted this. To escape places that made me anxious for almost 22 years and finally feel liberated. May be walking down a street alone at 2 am in Europe listening to “The Life of Ram”. Trust me, the most safest I ever felt was here. Travel as I always do which I have no fear of, I can do it every fucking day with absolutely no company as well. ADVENTURE, HISTORY, PEOPLE, that’s my adrenaline and may be I should chase that too. And above all this, I will never be 22 again to experience this! So why not be a nerd, have fun, travel, work, and enjoy.

FUCK MONDAYS OR TUESDAYS, BECAUSE IT'S MADRID

It’s been 14 days here in Madrid and honestly, I feel great. I won’t lie. The city is calm, composed, and the people are warm. There is a strange comfort in just walking alone to get groceries, coming back home at 1 am only to realize I still have a mountain of clothes waiting to be folded and on top of it all, the biggest realization: if I don’t cook, I can’t live. Life hits differently here.

I went for La Tomatina, and man, that was one hell of a crazy experience. Back home, I never imagined I would actually be part of something this messy. I am trying things I would never do in India, and in a way, that feels liberating.

At the same time, I am learning how much “being economical” truly matters. I came here as a Master’s student carrying a huge debt on my back, not gonna sugarcoat it. That weight stays in the background of every single decision. So yeah, I don’t eat outside, I don’t splurge, and sometimes it feels like I am bleeding inside when I skip little things that used to define my life.

Like, I can’t just hit the beach anymore. My hands shivered the first weekend because I am so used to hanging out with my best friends and watching a movie in the theatre every week, eating pasta and ice cream and now I can’t. That stings. These small cuts add up, and I feel them.

But still, this is my bubble. A new city, new routines, new struggles and yet, every single day, I call my friends. That one call is the anchor that keeps me from drifting away. And maybe that’s the point. Maybe this city isn’t about beaches or theatres or comfort. Maybe it’s about testing if I can really carry myself through the loneliness, the debt, the silence and still live the best.