After almost an year, I got my baggage out of Belgium. I was finally convinced that there is simply no point in being foolish about my prospects of returning to the beautiful past. It was good, but over now. So I told my friend to pack and send them here. I had approached an agent here at this side, so that I don’t have to immerse myself into filling up endless documents. Still I had to go to air-cargo section in the airport to collect the baggage.

Man! I witnessed how money is made under the table. Well, it is no more under the table! It is so open. Just to quote one incident, I had to get a signature from the commissioner. I didn’t do anything wrong here, it is an official formality and he had to sign. First there is a fat-ass lady sitting outside, collecting what is called ‘entry-fee’. If you don’t pay her, you don’t get to the room. Then a peon comes along, slip him some bucks if he has to get your paper. Then innocently he will ask, ‘For him?’. Oh! In addition to the government paying the commissioner to do his job, I have to pay an additional amount to do his job. Wow! what a work, what a service! This continues until you get out with your baggage.

As I was unpacking and arranging the books, clothes and photos, I was walking back on the memory lane to the good old days! I could feel the fun I had, the loneliness I felt, the warmth I enjoyed with friends and so on. As I was pondering over, I thought of this quote from Churchill: “It is not the end, it is not even the beginning of the end. It is just the end of the beginning”. Over the years I will understand what that beautiful beginning lead me to.