Life in a suitcase

Last night, one of my flatmates was really shocked when I told her that I had not packed: I had less than 24 hours for my flight.

“You’re going to pack your life in some hours?” she asked.

And this morning, I did pack my life in a matter of two hours. All I have is a suitcase that I am leaving behind in London, and a duffle bag that I am carrying with me. And that’s all what I possess.

Being a nomad is tough. Well, I consider myself a Nepalese nomad for all the move ins and outs I have done from one state to another, one country to another, and one continent to the next.

But as it seems even nomads have this notion of home.

When I was traveling to Nepal in December, I was digging deep about the definition of “home.”

I consider all the places I have lived as my home. Even though I have disliked the place and complained, at the end it was home. For instance, the dorms at the university. I really do not like it but then again it is home.

I have spent considerable amount of time in this dorm–being productive or super unproductive. I have met some great flatmates from all over the world.

I remember moving in, but now it is time to move out. But I am taking me tons of memories from this home.

As I stare out this huge window probably for the last time–and it is amazing that the sun is shining in London–I am reflecting on all of my previous homes. And come to think of it, I have only grown as a person in all those homes, striving to fulfill my dream.

From the United States to India, Nepal and the United Kingdom, I have been moving to realize my dream.

So as I pack my suitcase (Oh, I am coming back to London in a month), though it seems I am packing my dreams, it is not the case. I am just carrying my aspirations with me only to unpack it when I reach my destination.

See you in Nepal.

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