HOME IS NOT HOME WITHOUT YOU

I just spoke to sister and it got me thinking about home. Never put much thought into it while you were around but have been missing it for sometime now. The idea of home for me was you and all of us in it together. That was home. Now we are all living in different parts of the globe, in different houses, even different time zones and experiencing different seasons.

The worst thing is when I went back home after a long time, I still failed to feel at home. I have been struggling with this thought, a search for home, for feeling at home again. The reason I had not gone back home for so many years was for the simple fact that I did not want things to change in my mind for I knew it was changing back there. New people, new walls, new ceilings and new floors. I now find it hard to remember sometimes how it all really was when I go back home. Things change and they change rather much faster than you had time to adjust to it.

The idea of having a home now is comforting and consoling. But I am not sure if it would be so in reality. I have seen too many ideas turning into harsh realities that I have become much more of a cynic than I was before. Now I am skeptical about even the most certain things!

I guess, a home no matter how big or small or comfy or dull, it would never be complete for wherever you were it was home for us. Without you nothing seems to give us the feeling of being at home, anywhere, not even at home.

I missed my home terribly tonight. I missed you terribly tonight.

Love

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PAINTINGS AND EXPECTATIONS

Few weeks back I tried to paint you out of my memory. I knew that I could never make myself to try and draw your face. I am scared I will not be able to do so. So, that has been off limits. I had an idea of what I wanted to convey and how I wanted it to look like. One day, I took out the canvas, the fine paint brushes sister got me and the colours. I called the painting 'Heaven'. It's a painting of your feet, with three chrysanthemum flowers placed around it representing the three of us. I read somewhere about how Heaven or Paradise really is the land beneath the mother's feet and that's what I wanted to show. The idea was put onto canvas but I have to admit my skills as a painter pretty much made sure that it wasn't executed the way I had envisioned it. When sister saw it she was like 'those are such ugly feet, mom had such beautiful feet' and I completely agree with her. So you see, attempting just to draw your feet was such a disaster I can't imagine even trying to draw your face. You know, I had tried to sketch you once but the picture looked more and more like a stranger than you so I stopped and didn't even complete it.

But I haven't been able to paint after that. I know I should at least try and do some other stuff like the 'flower garden' sister wants me to draw. But I am so bad with the brush to draw such fine stuff like flowers in a garden. It needs attention to details, the right brush stroke to create the petals, the leaves and the stalk. Maybe I am just finding excuses!

It is so hard to deal with the expectations of others, let alone your own. And I have too many expectations of my own and from my own self (hardly have any from others!) that I fear to even think of trying. If I manage to think about it, I hesitate to work towards it. If I start working towards it I think of several other things to do so that I stop doing it. If I still persist, when the moment comes to seize the opportunity I just decline, flat. Just like that. Earlier I used to find it tough to say 'No', but now the problem is saying 'Yes'.

I guess more than anything or anyone else, we ourselves are our own worst fears and nightmares and if given a chance the best friend and guide. I wish you could tell me what to do. But I do know what you would have said. I guess I am just pretending not to hear, like the time when you once warned me the glass would fall if I didn't place it properly and after a moment it fell down and broke into pieces. Then I realised you were right and I should have listened. I still haven't changed, have I mom?

Miss you. Goodnight.

Love

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THURSDAY, 27th MAY

I am listening to my favourite songs, sitting in my room and writing down notes and poems and I thought of you, so decided to let you know. I have always been some kind of a loner. I guess you already know. I loved having my own room contended in my own small world. Ever since we moved to our own house and I got a separate room, no matter how small it was, I was really happy about it, especially after having shared a room with sister all the while and with a whole lot of cousins and aunts back in the village.

I can clearly see the room: wooden bed with traditionally embroidered mosquito net, wooden clothe-hanger, a cupboard-cum-table, a Phillips auto-reversal tape recorder, a black table lamp, a book-shelf and my stationery. And of course the window which opened up to the main gate outside. I have spent so many hours sitting by the window, looking out while listening to songs on the radio, trying to tie down thoughts and ideas on paper, and waiting for you to come home from your shopping bringing some jalebis or samosas depending on the popular demand of the evening. The moment you come, we'd all go rushing out taking the bags of vegetables and all with us inside. After giving you a glass of water, we would go through the articles, keeping them in their proper places. In the meantime, either sister or I would prepare the evening tea to be had with our samosas or coconut biscuits.

Evenings really were the best time of the day. A time when everyone was at home. We were back from school or college. Father was back from his office. And you were back from a visit to the neighbour down the road or aunties near the market with the shopping articles. Sister would narrate her day in detail right from the time she reached school to the classes and classmates, what all she did and what all others said to her. While brother and I narrated the summary of our day, and sometimes just the headlines. I miss those chaotic evenings more harmonious than the silence of the evenings which sometimes come visiting these days. I haven't had jalebis or samosas in a long time. I think I will have some this evening, even if all alone. You would be there, wouldn't you?

Love

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