|Dead body at the Sunday Market|
Leaving my city tonight. Not sure if I am coming back. I already know I will miss you Ahmedabad, more than any other city I have ever known in life.
I will miss the bustling roads and the buzzing lanes. I will miss the cows crossing over even at the busiest junctions and the cars and bikes which always almost bump into each other. I will miss the men and the women who almost die everyday on the roads, but never actually do. I will miss the old city, the pols, the sweet Gujarati food. I will miss the mosques, the temples, the people who make them alive. I will miss walking on the streets aimlessly, talking to friendly strangers, eating food way past mid-night in the old city, and desperately searching for an open cigarette shop at 2 am.
But I will miss the people the most. I will miss the friends I made over the many many years spent in this city.
There are so many more that I am even afraid to even mention the names here, I might miss some and end up offending them. But all the people who I came across in these years, only made the time spent here more eventful.
I am going now, but I have a feeling that the city will call me back. Again.