Last week, I got myself a place in Pune. A new place that is small, decent and comfortable. I am now living in one of these well laid out, planned townships that were probably farmlands in 2005, the year I had previously moved from Mumbai to Pune.

Mumbai remains home. I have family there and probably will spend a good number of days every month there. But my new dwelling where I am staying much of the week, was at first comfortable and useful. Thanks to having a lot of colleagues around, my social life was suddenly pretty active and I am making good friends.

But the new place felt impersonal, new and odd. It did not feel warm as a house would (maybe the Pune winter has something to do with it), it did not feel like I belonged here.

I was a bit worried wondering if I was every going to feel at home here.

Then today, I managed to come along home a little earlier than my usual time. It was before the sun had set for the day. As I made some coffee for myself, I saw out of  my 11th floor window this view.

Some kids were playing cricket at a distance over a concrete pitch. I felt a bit at home, remembering a long gone yet familiar time of playing cricket with friends during school holidays.

This was good.  I think I feel at home.