A Letter to Boston

Dear Boston,

So, the time has come. To bid you a farewell for the time being. We met some 4 years ago on a sunny day. I remember it was very hot. Too hot for a 22 degree Celsius day in early September. I was jetlagged after a 16 hour flight. And you were mesmerizing, as always. 

You've hosted millions of people like me. The Irish who touched your shores and caressed them centuries ago. You've hosted Thoreau, Swami Vivekanand, Ben Affleck, the cab driver from middle east, students of merit in MIT, Harvard, Tufts, Berklee from asias and the australias and africas and europe, also the homeless folks. I feel jealous of you treating everyone as special, but also makes me proud that I got to roam on the same streets in which the people who made a dent in this world did.

You completely blew my mind. Your beauty, elegance, arrogance, and a bipolar weather. You've been my muse, and I was yours. You developed in me the habit of long walks in silence. Almost every week I get lost staring at Charles. The curves, and the blushing red cheeks of yours when sun sets at esplanade.

They say that whores turn boys to men. I prefer to call it promiscuity, which you blessed me with. There were moments where I was shitting bricks to the moments of crying in joy. All in your lap. You gave me a feeling where I thought that I was making good money because of earning some thousand dollars. But kept me grounded by loving the other person who drives lamborghinis and dines at Dalton. 

I've touched you. I've touched at every part of yours. The extremely lavish and elegant street of Germain, to the dingy Roxbury. Oh boy. The nights with Him at Chestnut to the days at Strathmore. You really know how to make a man happy. Or... was it because of the bunch of friends I made, who used to flirt with the same passion as I do? I think it was a unique amalgamation of both the factors.

Boston you beauty. I've packed my stuff quite a few times before. Each time, I was just roaming within you. This time it's for waving a farewell. Deep down I knew this day would come, but I was adamant on dusting this thought under the elegant carpet of living in the moment. Now that I'm sitting alone in my apartment, when all my roommates have moved within your lap - I'm talking baby steps to move out. People have done it before me. They'll continue to do it after I leave you. 

I wonder, will you remember us talking at Charles esplanade? Will you remember me playing with your sunny days at Harvard Square? Will you remember the face I made when I tasted unagi-don and dragon maki at Newbury and Coolidge Corner? Will you remember me looking in your eyes when the moon sits at Prudential's crown? I know you will.

You've expressed your love on me by moulding me into a better man, a better thinker, and a better nomad. I try to express my love for you by thinking about the fun I had with the folks at Germain, Strathmore, and Chestnut. If it weren't for you, I would've never met those amazing people.

And lo! How the tables have turned. I just had 3 people to meet before the final kiss to i93. Ritesh bhai, Kartik bhai, Devanshu bhai. Rest everyone have been fooling around in California, Texas, Toronto, Salt Lake, Miami and whatnot. But that's life. And you're mean even though you love everyone who resides in you. You gifted me the curse of good memories. The moments to cherish, and the fear that haunts me - would I get the same bunch of friends in a city like you.

Although I would want to make even better memories in future, I suppose incomplete endings are beautiful in their own. Like us.

Siempre con amor. 

Grateful for you. Grateful for this life. Grateful for everything.

-S