Ghar

When I was born I had no idea about absolutely anything.

When I was a few years old, the word 'Home' meant a place from where we were not supposed to leave without mummy, papa or some other elder. They would carry us in their arms. We would feel secure. We could look aroud, see the world, without getting tired, without having to walk, cause somebody else's feet were taking the strain away from our feet. We would swim in the ocean of the world and return 'Home', where we would be released from the safety of our parents' arms to the safety of 'Home'. We could run around, play with toys, crumple the bed sheets, make faces when papa would kiss us cause his beard hurt. We simply had to stand and mummy would put the frock and sandals.

When I was few more years old, 'Home' was a place where we were supposed to return before the night fell. Where mummy would have prepared the delicious food (at that time we might not have realized what is meant by delicious food, cause we had never eaten not-so-delicious food). Before going to sleep, papa would tell us funny stories, mummy would tell us stories full of intelligence that would leave us awestruck and dadaji would tell us excerpts from Ramayana, leaving us to decipher the meanings of the incidents and to choose the path we would like to follow in our lives. My favorite excerpt was the construction of the bridge across the sea. Also, when Lord Rama is able to lift the bow.

When I was a few more years old, 'Home' was where we came back from school, had our lunch, had the afternoon nap before we went out to play. We would come back, do our homework, thrust down milk down our throats convincing mummy after every sip that another sip was impossible. Where we would pester mummy to make 'Maggie' when we would get fed up of eating vegetables and chapatis. Where we would wait for papa to come from office (all I knew about office was that it was a place where grownups go to do some work) and bring us gifts. Where we would have the dinner while watching TV. Where we would go to sleep.

When I was a few more years old, 'Home' was where we would drop in when we were not in college, or freaking out with friends. And when we were there, we would keep chatting with our friends on phone for hours, completely ignoring the mummy's words to put the phone down. Where we would study on the night before the exam till 3 in the morning asking mummy to wake us up at 5 and simultaneously praying to God to save us this time and that this would never happen again. Where we would eat mummy's puri aalo, kheer, kulfi, gulabjamun, halwa and every wonderful dish in the world. From where we would call papa every half an hour to remind him to come home early cause he had to take us out for a movie.

When I was a few more years old, 'Home' was a place I was going far away from. Far far away, to a place where I knew nobody, no friends, no relatives. Where I was leaving behind mummy, papa, my family.

And today, 'Home' is in my joys, my tears, my breaths, my steps, my body, my soul. I am a part of my home. Home is a living breathing entity. It is made up of people, incidents, stories, games, toys, hugs, sleep, arms, 'pathetic tasting' milk and 'delicious' maggie.

I miss you 'HOME'.