Home Doesn’t Feel Like Home Anymore
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Kulsum Shaikh 24MPLC47 MSc Clinical Psychology Department of Psychology Kristu Jayanti (Deemed to be University), Bengaluru |
Leaving home feels like stepping through an invisible pathway; you walk out as one person and walk in as someone else. At first, the air outside feels strange. The bed doesn’t smell the same, the walls don’t carry the warmth that has the essence of nostalgia, and silence becomes louder than laughter. Home does not feel like home anymore, not because it has changed, but because maybe a part of how I viewed home has changed.
They say home is where the heart is, but what happens when the heart learns to beat in a new rhythm, far from the walls, the people, the fragrance it once knew?
When I first packed my bags, I thought freedom would be exhilarating. I longed for it, prayed for it, even begged for this chance to live on my own terms, finally. And in many ways, it is precisely what I wanted. The independence of setting my own schedule, the joy of discovering new places, the thrill of carving my own path, it’s all here on my plate. But alongside it comes the long, melancholic trails of evening when you actually miss the chai and khari or maybe the memories associated with it, to managing quiet dinners, the responsibility of managing bills and deadlines, and the constant effort it takes to nurture relationships from afar.
Managing connections from a distance feels tricky. Family calls become shorter, friendships stretch thin across a hectic schedule, and sometimes the effort to stay in touch feels heavier than it used to. But these small struggles teach me something important: “relationships don’t survive on proximity alone.” They survive on intentions, on efforts, on learning how to balance your boat in these heightened seas of emotions.
Surviving alone is not just about doing laundry or cooking for yourself; it’s about finding strength on the days you feel invisible, finding comfort in your own company, and creating joy even when no one else is around to share it. Slowly, I’ve come to realise that this solitude is not an enemy, but a teacher. It pushes me to grow, to adapt, and to redefine what “home” really means.
This journey has sculpted my perspectives in ways I never expected. I now look at life through a lens of gratitude. The things I once took for granted, the people who love you, the clatter of plates at the dining table, the warmth of a sibling’s laugh, the comfort of being cared for and most importantly, “Ghar ka Khana”. And yet, I also celebrate this new chapter where growth, resilience, and self-discovery take centre stage.
So yes, home doesn’t feel like home anymore. But maybe that’s not a loss, I would call it a transition. Maybe “home” isn’t a single place, but a collection of moments and feelings. It’s in the friendships I’ve built over late-night conversations that usually led to watching sunrises together. Home has changed, and so have I, but the Roots still hold me. It’s in the tiny victories of cooking my first edible meal. It’s in the comfort of knowing I can survive challenges on my own.
To everyone who is far from home and finding it hard to settle, remember this: missing your roots doesn’t mean you aren’t growing.
It only means you are stretching, evolving, and creating new homes within yourself.
“Distance may stretch, but love won’t fade,
New paths are carved, new homes are made.”