October 1982 was my first visit to Pondicherry. I was all of 19 years old, young, and naive. While I was with my parents, in those days we hardly travelled. Once a year, we visited our maternal grandparents along with Mom, and that was it. This was the first time my parents didn’t accompany me; I had to travel far away from home and, for the first time, with a stranger to whom I was now married. My excitement was that I would get to see the ocean in Pondicherry, which I hadn’t seen before. While visiting the beach, I instantly fell in love with God's creation. I enjoyed watching the waves and walking on the soft sand.

I lived in Pondicherry for a few years, and it became very special to me because of the new experiences I encountered every single day as I set up my family, home, and life. The most precious one was being a mother to my first daughter. I developed an emotional connection with the city.

A few years later, we moved back to Bangalore. I made it a point to visit Pondicherry every year for at least a couple of years. With the passing of time and changing relationships, I had stopped visiting.

Years later, I kept planning a trip to Pondicherry. My life had a busy schedule for almost 25 years. I kept planning, and life kept postponing.

When I least expected it, an instant plan happened with a friend of mine in 25 minutes. We booked our tickets; she was to travel from Coimbatore and me from Bangalore, and we met in Pondicherry. I should say this was the quickest travel plan ever.

It was a weekend, and we went around happily clicking pictures and doing touristy stuff in the city where I once belonged. The two of us walked the entire city. She shopped until her heart was filled, and we spent time sitting by the beach in the cafes, having coffee. We were also very mindful to give each other the space and freedom to enjoy our quiet moments.

She left two days earlier than me. I was to stay on for two more days to revisit my past. I saw her off at the bus station, and finally, our holiday ended. And now mine began. I returned to the guest house, where I was alone that night. I felt nervous and anxious, and my emotions withered. I had walked about 22,000 steps on this day. I was dead tired and decided to focus on my weary body rather than my active mind with unpleasant feelings. I wanted to quickly fall asleep and be able to wake up early and be ready to watch the sunrise. To my surprise, that night I had a good sleep and woke up fresher than I could have imagined.

I quickly got ready and left for the beach before the sunrise. I sat on the rocks, making time-lapse videos of the beautiful sunrise. Today was very different. I didn't feel like I was visiting the city; the city made me feel like I always belonged there.

I kept walking around all day. I visited my first home on Canteen Street. How could I forget them? They were a sweet family. She and her family were the first ones to visit Bangalore to meet my firstborn baby girl. On reaching there, I discovered the lady and her family, who owned the house, had passed away a few years ago.

My favourite jasmine flowers had become skyrocketingly expensive. When I was in my 20s, I used to buy loose flowers for 1 rupee and weave them and get two hands long, and I wore them all on my tiny ponytail that curled up despite being loaded with flowers. When I walked on the street, people referred me to the actress Suhasini Maniratnam from the Tamil movie “En Purushanthaan Enakku Mattumthaan.” The same movie was remade in Hindi, “Mera Pati Sirf Mera Hai." I was a very pretty young girl then, and even today, wink!!

Everything had changed, from the shops to the homes and people; nothing seemed to be the same any more. Also, the once-clean French-ruled city was now crowded and dirty. The Omni photo studio, where we clicked our first photograph as a couple, had also shut down, but the signboard still hung on the wall after 40 years. I couldn’t connect with the city and past.

With a sigh, I walked back to the beach. I felt like my past had gone missing from the city. That I once cherished with joy.

Sitting by the beach on the bench, like old days, In reflection, it felt lighter. I sat there for hours, staring into the ocean waves. Thinking to myself, why do we worry so much in the end? Nothing stays with time; everything gets mended. At that moment, everything hurts. If only we had carried emotional maturity and stability at all times, despite ups and downs, we could overcome every challenge without suffering.

Looking back at forty years seems like history to me. Whereas, until a few years ago, I used to feel sad about delving into the past. I now realise that my biggest lessons of resilience come from my struggles and challenges, which have made me stronger as the person I am today.

These lessons come to you only when you are ready to embrace your past introspection, and self-discovery becomes easy. The power to forgive is also one of the ways to overcome. Breaking out of grief and letting go is another major aspect of being able to accept yourself for who you are. And life can move forward, one step at a time.

Looking back forty years, it looks like history. While you are in those 40 years, it is like carrying the burden. The next forty years will be a century for someone else who cares about how you lived in the past. Everything that happens for the first time in your life, be it happy or sad... In the end, it’s the choices you make. I choose to move on happily with the experiences of my life. Manan “Delving Deeper Into Oneself.” 

By 

Yasmin Sait 

Author | Councillor | Life Coach