For a girl who left home after graduate studies and never finally came back for good, what is the definition of home?
Was it that corner room in the hostel where she spent 3 years with her dreams, aspirations, solitude and everything she learnt from the adventures in a new place?
Or was it the room in that shared apartment with 5 new girls in a complete new city with a new found independence? That bare room with almost no furniture but with always crowded with friends and not so friends as well.
Or was it the so called my room in the house I got married into, where I tried my best to make myself feel like home.
Or was it in the one room apartment where I started my life in a new country with limited resources but unlimited dreams and aspirations?
Or was it in the next apartment we moved into after getting the first job when a place with just more than one room was affordable?
Or was it in the house where I welcomed and raised my 2 kids in this world, made memories of their firsts?
Would you call me weird if I told you none of those felt like home. I was home only when I walked into familiar old house, threw my bag in one corner and laid lazily into her mom's lap, chatted freely with dad, ordered bhai to get me some jalebi. Just that, and nothing else !!
Was it that corner room in the hostel where she spent 3 years with her dreams, aspirations, solitude and everything she learnt from the adventures in a new place?
Or was it the room in that shared apartment with 5 new girls in a complete new city with a new found independence? That bare room with almost no furniture but with always crowded with friends and not so friends as well.
Or was it the so called my room in the house I got married into, where I tried my best to make myself feel like home.
Or was it in the one room apartment where I started my life in a new country with limited resources but unlimited dreams and aspirations?
Or was it in the next apartment we moved into after getting the first job when a place with just more than one room was affordable?
Or was it in the house where I welcomed and raised my 2 kids in this world, made memories of their firsts?
Would you call me weird if I told you none of those felt like home. I was home only when I walked into familiar old house, threw my bag in one corner and laid lazily into her mom's lap, chatted freely with dad, ordered bhai to get me some jalebi. Just that, and nothing else !!
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