I still remember the day I left India. I was sixteen years old at that time.In the morning I woke up by the hustle and bustle of all relatives. Our flight was not till the evening, yet everyone was still there. It was just like a mela (Indian fair). I could see everyone laughing and have fun, but I knew that everyone was feeling melancholy. Everything seemed to slow down. People say you can't catch the time, but on that day I felt like catching the time and stopping it. I knew after that day, nothing would be same. I would be in a different country surrounded by different people and different problems. I got out of my bed to take a shower but I was so engrossed in the thought of leaving that I did not feel the freezing cold water over my body. I finished my shower and I just stared at the wall of my bathroom. I knew that this would be the last shower in this bathroom. I knew that the next time I would be back in this bathroom, nothing would be same. .
I got out of the bathroom and started meeting my relatives. I was sitting in one corner of the house, looking at the house and thinking of all the sweet and bitter memories that happened in that house. My house was not just any house, it was a magical place which would serve me with the beautiful memories just by looking at it. The sofa reminded me of how I use to fight for the remote on the sofa, the refrigerator reminded me of late night snacks/meals, the dining table reminded me of food fights, and the wall reminded me of all the "million dollar paintings" that I used to make with a pencil when I was a kid. .
Looking out of the window reminded me of the celebrations of the different Indian festivals such as Holi, Diwali, and Uttrayan. My house saw all the bitter and sweet memories of mine since the last sixteen years. Every time I looked at clock, it horrified me, because the time was moving faster and faster. It was five o 'clock and all the relatives started putting our bags into the car.