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Viersen is one of the three transfer points I had to stop while coming back home from my Berlin trip. Thanks to Euro Bahn and Deutsche Bahn, almost all the German trains that I took were never on time. Due to the delay in the train to Viersen, the train from Viersen to home took off even before I reached there. I had to halt in this small sleepy town for an hour. I hadn't crossed the international border yet and the people here don't speak any English unlike those on the other side do.

A bus stop and a Bahnhof with a cash & carry was all that Radiator Springs had. So, the max I could do was to have a coffee from there. While asking for one, an old lady stopped arranging the racks and nodded her head slowly. She poured some black coffee into a cup and handed it over to me. The Spirits of my South Indian ancestors inside me took the effort to Google translate to ask for some milk. "Ein Euro dreißig Cents!", She gently said. I pointed to the picture of a payment card on my watch, asking for a PoS/card swipe machine. Unfortunately, she didn't have one and whisked her hand referring to cash. After understanding that I don't have any cash on me, she calmly smiled and waved her hands. I was stuck in this awkward moment and didn't quite know what to do. Since I was reluctant to have it for free, she insisted that I have it and just walked away without looking back. She didn’t even ask me to go and get some cash from the ATM next door. It felt so wholesome!

I came back with some cash from the ATM. After seeing the euros in my hand, she did something that reminded me of my grandma. I saw the reaction that my grandma does when I refuse to take the money she used to give me on special occasions, on the old lady’s face. She didn’t want to take that money from me. My heart was filled only when she took those notes and put them inside her counter, after repeatedly insisting. She doesn’t know who I am, where I am from, or even where am up to and she’d never see me ever again. She would hardly have 10 customers for the entire day in that deserted little town. During my time in Berlin, I was debating with my friend who hosted me there, about why German people are so rude and on the contrary how the dutchies are friendly and helpful by referring to some of my previous experiences. I guess now I have the right rebuttal. I was reminded of a dialogue from a Tamil movie that says, “Antha manasu thaan sir kadavul” which roughly translates to “Everyone with that mind/conscience is a god”.

She fuelled a never-ending chain of thoughts that I had to debate with myself for the rest of the journey back home. She would have seen soooo much all along her life in that small town, right? Different kinds of people throughout different generations. Ahh! Ok! I'll stop it, I just got carried away again!

After stepping out of the train at my destination, the air felt fresh and thick while my heart felt light and calm. And that is when I understood, home is not just a place. It’s an emotional bond that you have with the people there, it’s the experiences that you have had there. Home shall not necessarily refer only to the place where you were born or grew in for years. It can also be a small town like Viersen that I hardly spent an hour in.