Transplant Rejects

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Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I had my birthday in the immediate past, and a whirlwind of carpe diem just struck me in the face; not that it was for the first time, but this time, it was different. It felt like someone stronger inside me is lending a hand to the weaker, naive ‘me’ to just get out of the ridiculous ‘hoping pit’ and smell the pungent aroma of maturity and to feel it sting too.

It feels almost extra-terrestrial for me to admit that the life I had imagined up, leading up to the ’30-year-old me’ is turning out to be entirely different;  and it makes my ‘life now’ shy away to the ends of the earth!

I have heard stories about how this city became home for hell of a lot of people, became the first love for some, an interesting passing phase or just meal tickets for some others; But, here I am, wondering “what the hell am I doing here?”. I belong to none of those categories. Anywhere else had I lived in, I’d always managed to find myself home; somewhere where I would sing aloud when no one’s around, be hysterical at any average joke watching sitcoms and just lazy around.

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But here, I realize that gradually; day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute; the city is making me feel like a ‘nomad’, bit by bit. May it be my illiteracy when it comes to the local language, the lack of any interesting folks around or my twisted, clingy mood that came to me from way South of all moods; all I know is that I am dreading my time here! Frankly, I didn’t see this coming. I had always thought of this place as with unending surprises hidden away for some extravagant Easter hunt. Now I know for a fact that what it is like to be without a home is extremely different from being homeless. When you are both, that is too hopeless.

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I was watching Dr. House; Hugh Laurie is brilliant in it – a medical thriller with some dramatic characterizations. And funnily enough,  I found a great metaphor for my predicament; transplants. After performing daylong surgeries for transplanting some organ in a patient in need, apparently the doctors allot a wait time to monitor if the organ is accepted by the whole immune system of the patient or rejected as ‘foreign’. The organ has to identify with the rest of the body of the patient, for it to continue living inside it. That is why, transplants involving familial donors stand more of a chance for prolonged lifespan of the organ inside the body of the patient. Now I know how Sherlock Holmes and Sheldon Cooper and many other iconic roles portrayed in the television must have felt; not that I can compare myself to them in a geeky intellectual level, but on a circumstantial sense.

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After such train of thoughts came flashing down on my birthday; I frequently see myself on a fence – between what I chose to be and what I should be like, concerning where I am from. When I chose something to be my way of life; when I paved myself an unusual path and discarded something which is not for me; when I loved something else more than my home and all that it entails; when I deluded something for my future to be, without giving even an air hole of a chance for my ‘person’ to breathe out of; not deliberately though, I set myself up; for what exactly is a question only time can tell.
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