For years, I’ve been someone who gets attached to objects, places, events, history, languages and completely random subjects of interest without really knowing why. And for years, I’ve tried to work out why certain things interest me and somehow end up staying with me.
My love for the Northeast probably started in Grade 5, when I visited Sikkim. I was too young to think much about why I liked it. I just remember that I did. We went up to Nathu La Pass and stood at the Indo-China border, which was exciting enough at that age, but I had no idea that the place would somehow become part of a much bigger story in my life. Years later, I ended up living on the other side of that same border for six years, growing up there from a teenager into an adult. When I think about it now, that coincidence still makes me smile.
The funny part is that my affection for the Northeast stayed with me all those years. When I finally visited Shillong this year, I had that same feeling again. I can’t really explain what it is. I liked being there, and I felt strangely at home. Maybe it was the place itself, maybe it was the people, or maybe some childhood impressions simply stay with us longer than we realise. Whatever the reason, the Northeast has had a little corner of my heart for a very long time.
Then there are the things I really can’t explain. For some reason, I’m fascinated by the Chola dynasty. I don’t have a particularly impressive knowledge of Chola history, so I can’t even pretend there is some deep academic reason behind it. I just find myself stopping whenever I come across something about them. Gangaikonda Cholapuram has been on my travel list for a while now, and so has Angkor Wat. I don’t remember exactly when either place became something I wanted to see. At some point, they just ended up there.
Hyderabad is a different kind of attachment. I don’t have to wonder why I love it. It’s home. I’ve lived away from it for long enough to realise how much of it I carry around without thinking. It’s in the food I miss, the words that come out naturally when I’m not paying attention, and that very ordinary feeling of knowing where you are without having to explain it. You can live somewhere else for years and still have one place that feels like yours the moment you return.
Languages have been another one of those interests. I’ve never really needed a big reason to learn one. Sometimes I just become curious and want to see how another language works. I like finding words that don’t have an exact equivalent in English, or expressions that make perfect sense until you try translating them literally. The more languages I come across, the more I realise how differently the same idea can be expressed. It has made me curious about the people and cultures behind the words too.
I think that curiosity spills over into people as well. I like watching how people talk, how they react to things and how differently two people can see the same situation. Sometimes I’ll meet someone for a few minutes and never see them again, but I’ll remember something about the conversation. It doesn’t have to be a great piece of wisdom. It could be something as simple as the way they explained something or an opinion I’d never considered before. I enjoy those little moments of thinking, I hadn’t looked at it that way.
Over time, I’ve become less interested in finding a proper explanation for all of this. I don’t think an interest has to be useful before it is worth having. I don’t think I need to turn every curiosity into a plan either. Some things are just nice to be curious about. Some places stay on the travel list for years. Some ideas send you down a completely unnecessary rabbit hole on a random Tuesday evening. I’m quite happy to let that happen.
When I look back, it’s funny how some of these things have connected themselves without me planning any of it. A visit to Sikkim in Grade 5 somehow became a lifelong affection for the Northeast. Standing at Nathu La as a child was followed, years later, by six years of my life in China. A completely unexplained fascination with the Cholas turned into a desire to see Gangaikonda Cholapuram. A place like Shillong can still surprise me years after that first visit to Sikkim. And somewhere in between all of this, there are languages, people, sports and countless other things that have caught my attention and refused to leave.
I don’t think I need to figure all of it out. I’m quite happy to keep some of these things unexplained.
For now, I’m happy to keep wondering