Chapter 3: A Home that Never Needs to Heal.
Downtown Brooklyn.
“Did you decide your courses for next semester?” I asked.
“We have time and I still am confused.What about you?” Mohan replied.
“I am still thinking”
He then sat down to explain the intricacies of getting a visa and job prospects to me. Peer pressure is not a myth. Funny how times flies and you suddenly have to start thinking about your future. It’s a big responsibility. Indian students cannot eff this up.
“I want to travel the world. I wanna go to different countries before I settle down” he said.
Settle down. It was a strange phrase to hear from a 23 year old.But in reality, it was not.
“I was planning to visit the museum tomorrow but the tickets are sold out” he said.
“I am not sure I can appreciate modern art” I said.
“haha yeah NFTs and a banana on the wall. Paintings I don’t know but History I can appreciate.” he said
“Art is subjective but I believe paintings are quite beautiful.World would be quite boring without artists” I said.
“What do you do?” Mohan asked.
“I write. Occasionally”I said like it’s all I do.
“You know I know a person who auditions for musicals. I respect people who continue to keep in touch with their artistic side.”
“Thank you” I said
“Yeah but you only write occasionally. So you don’t come under that criteria” he said.
I was ashamed but he was after all right. That evening I picked up my pen again.
It only takes one person to bring you back.
