Many a times I tried to pen this down, but couldn’t. Sitting by my window I still think about the days with a happy smile on my face. I used to wonder what could I write about this place that haven't been written before. While I think deeper I discovered the reason behind my indefinite love for this place. Talegaon is a small picture perfect industrial town near Pune, India. This is just a piece of information for the readers but for me it is a collage of emotions. One morning at around 5:30 a.m I woke rolled up in a thin quilt. I was awaken by a chilly breeze ruffled through my hair like a gentle wave. I peeped out of the window to see a graceful garden, impatiently calling me outside to blend into the morning view. As I tip towed out of the house while everyone were still in there dreamland, I was mesmerised to witness breaking dawn far in the Horizon kissing the heights of Sahyadri range. Peace felt in those fleeting seconds become eternal as I drew the deepest breath and lose myself in the morning view. I was here on my friend’s invitation to visit Ajanta Ellora caves, which is an UNESCO world heritage site, located at the edge of Western Ghat. Hardly did I knew this place will be one of my dearest, which is nothing less precious to me, than the caves. The pervious night I was travelling from Mumbai to Talegoan in a shared cab. Within few minutes of leaving Mumbai scenario started changing. Short ranges of Shayadri standing in the dark, welcoming to their kingdom. And in between the darkness small patches of tinkling electric lights of unknown countryside villages made my heart skip a beat. That night was a brilliant Van Gogh everything bigger and brighter blured in the most fantastic way. Over the Sahyadri range the crescent moon with billions of twinkling stars smiling down. A dark black highway leading to a destination and some people I never met. I was completely unaware how my next four days going to be. By 9:30 pm of the evening I reached my destination. The cab dropped me in the middle of a highway I was completely alien to, from where my host received me. His home was more 15 minutes drive from that point. I was battling with thoughts while our car drove through dark meandering lanes of a small sleepy town. It is not only about places, exploring some unknown faces and culture is equally thrilling. I was surrounded by people belonging to totally different culture, different language and food habits, yet connected with a common national identity; Indian. It was past 10 when our car finally pull over in front of a humble violet and white house set on a hillock shimmered magically below in the moonlight. I received a warm welcome from my host’s humble parents, with a warm meal. Though most of the dishes were unfamiliar to my tongue but I still enjoyed having every bit of it. Unfortunately the journey was so tiring I was drained out of energy to talk to them. The last thing I remember was a cozy bedroom half occupied by a huge bed and a wardrobe. I opened the shutters of the window just beside my bed and let some chilly air rush into the room. I was fast asleep the moment I laid down on the bed. The next four days have been quite happening, taking into consideration only the stay with my host's place. However, at times it felt like I am an alien intruder. While everyone, which include my host family of three and another pal of mine, were merrily conversing in the local language I struggled to figure out what is the topic is all about and tried to hold on a conversation in English and broken Hindi mixed with few sign languages. Inspite of that it was fun. I used to felt a little out of the place as I cycled by myself around the steep winding roads of the village with no familiar signs of tourism. During my short stay there most of the misty afternoons elapsed hiking the trails of Western Ghats filling my lungs with fresh air and drinking in its virgin beauty. I used to wonder what could have possibly made me fall in love with this place--- my bizarre independence, boundless days or foreign cuisine? Well the answer has been quite apparent. It was all about this home; my host family. Like every other things they too have now become my very own. Whenever I look back into the days I wonder if the joy of exploring would have been the same without local meals and struggling to understand their language. Or the night made fascinating engaging into local folklores and legends. In the hustle and bustle our daily lives we loose sight of the small yet precious moments. I am thousand miles apart now and till date I reminisce those day with immense joy. I never knew I could feel homesick for a home I never had. Life of a traveller is one without strings but I promised myself that I’ll be back there someday where I found a home when I least expected to find one.