Bye Pune!

Tomorrow, I board a flight that will take me thousands of miles away from you, Pune—my home. As I sit here, surrounded by packed bags and a bittersweet quiet, I feel the weight of this goodbye in every corner of my heart.

You’ve been more than just a city to me. You’ve been a backdrop to my growing-up years, a silent witness to my dreams, my failures, and my joys. I’ve walked your streets a thousand times, each step carving memories that I now hold close, knowing they’ll have to last me for a while.

I’ll miss the mornings when the sun filters through the Gulmohar trees, painting the roads in soft amber hues. The early chaos of rickshaws and scooters feels like second nature now.

I’ll miss the rhythm of your monsoons. The way the city smells after the first rain, the puddles that reflect the grey skies, and the chai stalls that somehow feel warmer on those damp afternoons. The rains brought out your soul, Pune, and I always loved you a little more in those moments.

I’ll miss FC Road with its timeless energy, where generations have gathered to eat, talk, and laugh. I’ll miss Sarasbaug’s quiet charm and the way Parvati Hill holds onto the evening light, as if reluctant to let it go.

Leaving you feels like leaving a part of myself behind—the part that knows exactly where to get the best Misal Pav, the part that feels alive during Ganeshotsav, the part that finds comfort in the familiar streets of Camp and the winding lanes of Koregaon Park.

You are a city of contradictions. You are bustling and chaotic, yet you always found a way to slow me down. You are old and wise, yet brimming with youthful energy. You are home, yet you’ve always made space for something new.

I wonder what it will feel like to wake up in a place where no one knows me the way you do. Where the sky looks unfamiliar, where the air doesn’t carry the scent of Bhakarwadi and brewing tea, and where the silence at night feels too still, too distant from your lively hum.

But I know that no matter where I go, you’ll stay with me. In the way I crave a plate of spicy Vada Pav. In the way I instinctively look for a hill to climb to catch a better view of the sunset. In the way I carry the patience of your summers and the resilience of your monsoons in my heart.

This isn’t a goodbye forever. It’s a goodbye for now. One day, I’ll walk your streets again, and they’ll feel like I never left. Until then, I’ll carry you with me, Pune. Not in postcards or souvenirs, but in memories that refuse to fade.

You’ve shaped me in ways I’ll only truly understand when I’m far away. And for that, I’ll always be grateful.

Goodbye, Pune. I’ll see you again.