A home is a place where one is accepted, just the way one is - good, bad and everything in between. Strangely enough, when you are with another human being who is culturally different, he or she may not always understand the nuances of being in a place where one does not seem to belong.
When we were in Shillong, we were living in a place surrounded by people who spoke a different language. While in Toronto, the outside world was not the same as the ethos in my living quarters. There was a conflict that was based on unfair notions of Islamic terrorism. And here in Bangalore, or Bengaluru, to be precise, I am often lost and staring.. listening to people speak a language that is still a stranger to me.
Where is OUR Home?
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