What do you think of on hearing the word home?
My mind wanders to the noisy Polytechnic Lane with children playing in the school across from our house, reciting poems and math tables. Funny how I found it so annoying then but now sets the backdrop of my beautiful memories. I think of my Mom, in the kitchen, cooking our favorite meals, instructing the helper on his next tasks. I think of my Dad returning from work, his brows furrowed, the helper runs to open the gate. We quickly check his hands, what has he brought today? Bakery? Ice cream? Any new snacks that we could nibble while Mom asks to save some for potential guests.
Arguing with my brother and not wanting to talk to him but not having any other option and bonding over a good head massage from him. Grandfather scrutinizing the newspaper, grandmother making phone calls to keep herself uptodate on what's going on in everyone's life, hollering for the helper to get her snacks or a cup of tea all the while playing loud kashmiri songs or news on the TV.
Me, in my room, reading a book or watching a TV series not wanting to interact with anyone. Wanting to get away from the noise... I did get away. And the noise stopped. That home, stopped being the home I remember. It stopped being a home at all.
Sometimes I think if it was just one person holding it all together? How could we not see...
Is there a home in the people we know? Do some people become home to us?
I think the answer for me is yes. When you leave the home you grew up in and the idea of the home that existed for you does not match the new reality that has slapped you in the face and knocked air out of your lungs, you look for it elsewhere. It will never be the same again. But you'll start finding many new homes. Small pieces scattered all over the world. And it's not necessarily a bad thing. Someone's arms, that spot by the ocean where you watch the waves splash against the rocks on the shore, that apartment with the lousy couch on which you crash when you are exhausted, that place in the library where you always go when your mind is racing, that friend you can call at any time of the day or night... You can live with this, until something triggers your memory of what once was and you feel your gut clenching. Terrible pangs of grief wash over you leaving you paralyzed.
But you are an adult now and need to function so you suck it up and move on.
Home is a feeling. It's a feeling of safety and comfort. It's the space to unwind. Where you put your guard down. Where you can be whoever you want to be. Home is peace and you may even travel miles to find it... Or you may have to find it over and over again... Just know what you are looking for.
