Can take me out of Trivandrum, but not Trivandrum out of me!

I’m back in Trivandrum after almost 83 days, and I don’t think I was prepared for how much I had missed this city until the moment I stepped out of the railway station and just… paused.

There was this sudden rush of relief, almost cinematic in a very Malayali way , the kind of feeling that reminded me of that iconic scene from Drishyam, where Mohanlal walks out of the police station with that quiet, heavy release. No, I don’t mean I did anything dramatic like that, let’s not go there , but the feeling? That exact kind of release. The kind that hits you when you move from something cramped and suffocating into something that just lets you breathe again.

Because that’s the thing , Kochi feels busy, packed, always in a rush, while Trivandrum… Trivandrum feels like it has space. Space for roads, space for trees, space for your thoughts to slow down and stretch a little. And the moment I stood there, taking in the greenery, the air, the openness, I just knew , this feeling? It really can’t be described properly.

Now, I wasn’t born and brought up here, and yet every time I come to Trivandrum, there’s this strange, almost irrational feeling that I somehow belong here, like I was meant to end up here eventually. It’s that slightly dramatic inner voice that goes, “Ah yes, this is where you were always supposed to be,” followed immediately by another voice reminding me that nobody has ever actually said that to me. But still, no harm in dreaming, right?

The last time I left Trivandrum was in mid-February, right before my wedding, and that goodbye came with a completely different set of emotions , a mix of excitement, nervousness, and everything in between. This time, I was back for something much more practical , a four-day client visit from work , but somehow, the emotional weight of returning felt just as strong.

The next morning, I got ready and walked to my nearest bus stop, and I think I may have slightly overdone my reactions to being back. I was literally staring at trees, roads, even the air, like I had just discovered nature for the first time, and at one point I caught a couple of people looking at me and quietly giggling, probably wondering what exactly I was so fascinated about. And honestly, fair enough , I probably did look like a tourist in my own state.

After switching buses and finally reaching my office, I stood there for a moment, just taking in the campus. It was wide, open, airy , everything my Kochi office wasn’t. I think I stared a little too long again, because someone gently nudged me aside, reminding me that I was, in fact, blocking the way. Right, okay, act normal. But inside, I was just thinking, God, I really missed this. Somewhere in between all this, my phone kept buzzing.

It was him.

“Reached?” “How’s Trivandrum treating you?” “Having fun already?”

There was something oddly comforting about those calls , like even while I was rediscovering this city, a part of my new life was gently checking in on me. I smiled, looked around at everything I had been missing, and said something casual like, “Yeah… it feels good to be back,” while knowing I didn’t really have the right words to explain what I was feeling. Not surprisingly, he knew me too well to just take it blindly.

I slowly made my way to the lift, went up, and when I swiped my card at the entrance and heard that small beep, it gave me this unexpected little rush of happiness , like a quiet “you’re back” acknowledgment.

Walking in was a strange mix of familiarity and unfamiliarity. There were so many known faces, and at the same time, just as many new ones, and for a brief second, I genuinely felt like a new bahu entering her husband’s family , smiling, slightly unsure, trying to act like I belonged while internally adjusting to everything.

And then I reached my seat.

My cubicle.

Still mine.

Still holding traces of my old routine, my old life, my old version of myself. And in that moment, everything felt instantly… settled. Like slipping into something familiar after a long time. Like home.

What followed was a steady stream of people coming over , one after another , asking where I had been, how married life was treating me, how Kochi was, how my husband was, how everything was. The questions came with warmth, curiosity, and a kind of genuine interest that felt comforting but also a little overwhelming. I could feel emotions building up somewhere inside, but I held them back.

And then my closest friends came over. And just like that, we were back. Talking, laughing, interrupting each other, and picking up conversations like no time had passed at all. And somewhere in the middle of all that noise and laughter, it hit me , I had missed them. Not casually. Not lightly. I had missed them deeply. And then came the moment that somehow carried more emotion than everything else.

Balu looked at me and asked, casually, like it was any other day , “Varna, tea?” That was it. That one simple question I hadn’t heard in so long suddenly brought everything rushing in.

The familiarity.

The routine.

The comfort of being part of something.

I nodded immediately, probably a little too quickly, and got up to go with them like it was the most important plan of the day.

At the cafeteria, I noticed that two new vendors had replaced the old ones, and for a second, it felt strange , like even familiar places move on without you. During lunch, I got myself a chicken biryani, expecting it to feel like home, but it wasn’t that great, and I remember thinking, okay, slight drop in Trivandrum score… but I’ll let it pass.

The rest of the day went by in the best possible way , sitting around, talking endlessly, laughing louder than necessary, and just existing in that space that once used to be my everyday normal.

By evening, it was time to head back. I got into a cab, already feeling that quiet heaviness of knowing this was temporary, that I would be leaving again in a few days.

But that cab ride… that’s a story for another time.

For now, I’m going to sleep with Trivandrum still lingering in my thoughts , the air, the space, the people, the feeling , all of it gently playing in my mind like a memory I don’t want to let go of just yet.