Recently i was talking to one of my closest friend ..we were talking about usual stuffs and i told her about my plan about the weekend .. i had a small trip planned with my husband to a nearby place , just a 2 people affair , solace ,good food and lots of sleep .. then i asked her casually what is her plan .. and she just said one sentence . “ Am going to home” ..
such a simple line yet with so much of an effect .. it led me to think .. what is a home to me now.. now when am married .. leaving abroad with my husband in a rented flat , leaving us .some plants in our balcony garden to give us company ..can i call my place a “home”
After a girl gets married in india she leaves for her in laws place , accepts a new abode as her home leaving behind her parents place where she has lived as long as she could remember ..almost all through her teen and youth years .. building thousand memories and numerous stories just to be shared later with her childrens may be or with some friends ..
But home is not just a place built with bricks and cements ..its a mason of dreams built with tears of hardwork and sacrifice and love of your family .. when i stepped into my husband’s house.. it felt just like a home .. but a home that was his …. i could see his sports trophies that he won during school competitions .. some old photographs on one old forgotten corner of the house , small crafts made by sister-in-law .. the chappals on the shoe stands , the unwashed dishes in the kitchen stand ..and everything reminded me that it is not my home ..i missed my home …
and before i got the chance to accept it as my own , before i could devour all the love showered at me by my beautiful inlaws ..i travelled thousand of miles away to a different part of world .. to make another home .. a home with my husband ..
Somedays are tougher than others ,i have lost so many arguments and countless days of pain i have seen ,days of pure and ecstatic happiness too i have seen , days of success and failure all are same when it is time to go home ..
There was a time in each of our life when we wanted to be at home and home was there .. accessible , warm , happy in the arms of our parents where we were sure we would be loved unconditionally and will be taken care of without any expectation …,now with each year passing by and another decade of life, just peeking at us from corner “home ”word is slowly turning into a dream of one happy summer afternoon of few years back ..
home back then was a place to be made mess of , to quarrel with your siblings , to be pampered by your father and taunted by your mother for not studying ..it was a place of everything yet of nothing which can make it forgettable ..
It was the safest harbour …
How i wish i would have never grow up and be expected to build a home of mine .. but time has passed with a blink and am trying to build something warm and happy , enough to be called a home ..
Building a home of your own is an art ,not a work , it is a sacrifice and it is the final goodbye to the enthralling careless days and nights …it is not bricks and four walls and roof for me .. it is wherever i can make of it .. wherever my heart takes me , which ever place i can be without fear and with the love of my life ..
somedays , may be few years down the line .. i can again return back to my place .. when i can finally say “ I’m going home”