My parents bid adieu to the city where I grew up, have amazing memories of, made friends, got an education. I got to be there for no effort on my part – and am thankful to the Tatas, my parents and God that this came to be. Jamshedpur set a benchmark in my life in terms of dreaming big, planning and execution (am still learning this last one), uncompromisable ethics, love for green lung spaces, planned towns and a charming life. We’ve grown up – even said “there’s a lack of opportunities here” – and moved out. We’re part of the “real” world now – a bigger city – more diversity – more opportunity – larger ambition and huger aspirations. Yet there was something very, well “nice” about the place which is missing from the sum of all the adjectives the bif city might be able to cater to. There was no race to run all the time, everything was affordable and it was all smell the roses. Of course this was probably true more from my school-kid point of view than from my parents or other grown ups, but thats how I remember it. No more Durga Puja, no more Bistupur, no more strange and specific-only-to-Jampot Hindi. No more sitting in the usual spot along the club fence devouring “signed-for” fingerchips and “Nova” at the club, and no more hitching free rides to school. There is a dull ache in the heart, and lots of slightly-yellowed-and-withered-around-the-edges pictures in the head. Adieu Jampot. May you live on and prosper forever. And thanks for the memories.