A place called home

For someone who was born and brought up in Bombay, my home for a long time was Dubai. You may ask me how that is. Well, my father lived and worked in Dubai, while my mother and I lived in Bombay. This arrangement suited my parents and gave me the opportunity to see new places! So it seems I was quite happy with it, in some corner of my mind.

It was in Dubai that my family was whole. It was where my family was almost like any other family that I saw around me. We would go on mini vacations from there, dinners to places I loved and enjoyed, shopping sprees, spending time with loved ones and what not. You name any ‘normal family activity’ and we did it, with almost equal vigour! I use the word normal because that was how it seemed to me. It was where my parents were parents on most days!! And which child wouldn’t want that huh?

Dubai was also the place where I was taught to be open to new experiences, try new cuisines, venture about to places that would normally scare me and basically get out of my shell. I still have one foot inside this shell, but it was Dubai that gave me my childlike curiosity, if I may say so myself!

To me, Dubai will always be my window to the world, because my father opened those doors for me….

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