“It sure does look like a giant bat” thought Neha as she looked at one of the camera views on the TV screen of her upper deck seat on one of the world’s largest passenger airliner. No matter how many times she flew on one, it never failed to fill her with awe. “Modern technology rocks” she said remembering those long flights to India she took with her parents every summer as a kid. She switched views to see the top view of the city. Another city, another view and yet another flight.

She should be bored of these long haul flights, standard airline food, customs, immigration and baggage delays by now. She had spent the last 10 years flying from one destination to the other, packing and unpacking her meager belongings into two suitcases of 30 kgs each. She loved her job and the excitement of getting a new stamp on her passport every time she flew in and out of a country. She loved the ease of staying connected with family and friends via the Internet. It made many of the dark nights in remote destinations bearable.

The urban sprawl of Houston came to sight on her TV screen. “Woodlands” she sighed as she saw the green tops of trees bunched together with the meandering waterways broken by the large single story warehouse stores. Typical Houston. The city spread itself out below her – welcoming her. Scaring her. Houston – the most common answer she gave when asked “where is home?” Houston – the city that nurtured her. The city that gave her wings. The one city she avoided traveling to in the whole wide world.

Closing her eyes, Neha willed herself to calm down. 10 years was a long time and it was time to come home. She had moved away and moved along. She regrew the wings and dreams he clipped mercilessly. She found that she could laugh again. Laugh and dream new things. Work on making those dreams a reality. She realized the “life will go on” sentiments her friends and parents droned on 10 years ago was true. “Life does go on” Neha thought. It took her to places like Baku and Balikpapan, Monrovia and Makati. It made her grow up and grow beyond the comforts of Houston and the support system she leaned on with ease.

As she had been doing the past month since she knew that this trip to Houston was inevitable, she promised herself “I will get back to the dance studio. I will dance. Again. Relearn and rediscover my love. My first love.” The dance that kept her moving when he called it quits after 5 years of being together. The pain and the lamentation of the nayika* made more sense and came out as beautiful abinaya** when she went through the motions of her arangetram*** days after being dumped. She grieved through dance on stage radiant in her grey dance costume – the one he had selected. Oh he was there watching her painful yet beautiful renderation of a classic. So were all their friends. Oh the humiliation.

The pain was vivid. The humiliation unbearable. The tears unstoppable. The future bleak. Everything seemed wrong. Houston with its familiarity and friends seemed closing down on her. Her whole life seemed to be a mockery. She had to get out and that she did.

She left and never looked back. 10 years, 5 months and 3 days. She stayed away. Till one day, a month back the longing for home and its familiarity burst over the bank as she sat listening to dance beats on her Ipod. An intense hankering for family and friends. An emotion that she kept under tight reign broke away. Along with it fell her barriers. She had to get home. Home at last.

“Welcome to George Bush International Airport, Houston where the outside temperature is 72 F” came the voice through the PA system.

*naiyka – the heroine

** abinaya – facial expression

*** arangetram – on stage performance of a Indian classical dancer.

Home was the word suggested by Santhi. Thanks for the prompt and all the encouragement. I hope you like Neha and her story.

I am attempting to write short scenes for the April A to Z challenge. I randomly select words and write something around it. It has not been an easy attempt but I plan to try and challenge myself. Please throw some words at me. I to Z are open. I will dedicate the story to you (if ever I come up with one) and don’t forget to wish me luck. I need them in truckloads.

This post is a part of the April A to Z challenge. 26 days, 26 letters and 26 short stories. Come back tomorrow for more.