I spent a night in Shillong recently, after 11 years. This is a picture of me, taking it all in. I have a lifetime of memories in this mountain town. Since the time I left it behind for college, there has probably not been a day when I didn't remember it, generally with a sense of blissful nostalgia.
However, in the past three years or so, the memories have started to hurt more than bringing solace. Everything about Shillong stands to be a stark reminder of a world that will never be. My father and his love, our homestead and every single thing in it, the books, the carpet, the steel utensils, the water taps.
Yet, during our recent visit, I made it a point to visit Shillong. It was healing. The lost world came alive by the sight of my dad's college, Shillong College, as we drove by, the sweets and nimkis at Delhi Mistan that he so loved and always got us rejuvenated the palette, the sights of Ward's Lake that he solitarily rambled, brought solace!
