1005, ‘Kiran’

Is where I was born and spent the first 25 years of my life. And the place where my son was brought home too. My home. Somewhere in me, even today when people ask ‘Where do you stay”,I end up giving this address. I never actually realised that I ‘felt’ for this house so much. Until over the weekend something drastic happened and there was a fear of an entire side of the foundation collapsing! And I heard Dad get angry and saw mom worried that I realised there was a very unsettling feeling for me too… A very uneasy,unhappy feeling that I couldnt express.

Many many memories associated with that brick and mortar house…

My first memories of playing chauka baara with Thatha, sleeping in the last room between the grand parents with a book (Tales and Parables) in my hands.
The running away from Dad on weekends and locking myself in the room with Thatha while Dad got the room key and opened it and insisted that I sleep! (How I wish I could do that now – lock myself and sleep!)
Walking all the way to the bathroom at end of the house in the middle of the night, jumping walls to go to the neighbours’
Sitting on the front steps talking to my neighbour S for hours or going for long walks in the neighbourhood
Chatting with friends on the street in front of the gate for hours together – school friends, college friends, neighbours.
Walking on the terrace studying for the exams,playing in water on the terrace during some construction work.
Eating endless dosas on competition with brother sitting at the dining table while granny made them hot.
Sitting at the dining table and discussing the elocution/debate/essay and singing competitions while mom sat down cutting the veggies for the next day. And the numerous songs that mom/bro and me sang along with the radio/TV.
The endless amounts of mirth and laughter on finding out that Ajji had put tea powder instead of mustard seeds for the bhendi fry and how I had stuffed everything in my mouth at school because I was scared of her – though it tasted yuck!
Cycling and playing on the streets until dark.
Playing antakshari after dark during power cuts with the neighbours in their living room and us in ours!
The relatives who came to stay over at home for days together.
The first time I told about hubby to my parents and that evening of discussion with me sitting on the floor while the 3 elders sat on the sofa while Dad bombarded me with questions.
Hubby (then BF) visiting me and my pre wedding home renovations and wedding festivities.
Watching TV lazing on the sofa while mom vaccumed the whole house on a saturday afternoon.
Making the first sandwich, the first custurd, the first dosa – the first everything in cooking.
Painting the Rangoli in front of the house every summer vacation. All the arts/crafts that hang on those walls…
Planting in the garden with granny.
The numerous festivals – Ganesh/Gowri immersion in the well behind, finish bursting crackers early during diwali and then stand on the terrace to watch all the night items light the sky later.

Some sad ones..
Like the day Thatha passed away and I was sitting all alone near the gate without even switching on the lights because I was somehow scared to go inside.
The day before J Amma passed away and I fed her, her last piece of banana and how she said she wanted to go now and she was very happy that bro and me were well settled.

I think I can go on and on… I realise Im going to miss that house and all that it gave me…  

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