Walk to my home
We travel a lot of places, we do a lot of things, but at the end of the day, our body demands to go back home. Now what home is may vary with people. A home is not literally a shelter, but a place or a person you feel that you belong to; that is your home sweet home!
Reading those lines, I kept walking forward. “How can I belong to something? Isn’t it Psychological?” I laughed and threw the piece of paper away. It came to me in a cookie. “Humans are sentimental fools” I laughed. It occurred to me that I always assume that I’m not human.
I don’t know how it happens, but most of the time I feel like an observer of this world and not really one of them. And I think everyone feels that way, but I don’t know. I get too carried away sometimes, and I just feel like I’m observing, writing notes and learning what a human is.
When it comes to me; when I suddenly look into the reflections of mine, I remember that I’m one of those idiots I laugh at. There might be some idiot who is laughing at me right now. And for that dimwit, I’m an idiot. Are humans innately narcissistic? Or is it just me reflecting myself upon the world?
My home sweet home?
I reached my building and I opened the gate. I could see the baker’s family packing their bags, all tired and fed-up. “Need help?” I yelled. I don’t know why I did, it was spontaneous but I did however. “Nah, it is almost done” Premji answered. He is a funny little guy. I have different names for people in my mind, and I name them with a physical attribute they got.
I can never say that out loud, because it might appear to be an insult. Maybe I will be looked upon as an objectifying shit. But, physical attributes, as it is, without any adjectives are not insults according to me. “A fat man” is not an insult for me. “An ugly fat man” is definitely an insult. I’m a logical person.
“Don’t you feel sad?” A voice called me from the lost world of thoughts. I realised that I have been staring into Premji’s wife’s face all the time while thinking about names and fat men. “Because you are leaving?” I asked. That was dumb, but that was I thought, so it’s ok.
“No, because you are selling your house” she said in a painful tone. “I haven’t quite thought of it. I guess I am not sad. I’m neutral” I said. But I didn’t mean what I said. In fact, I have never really thought about it that way. My house? Does it belong to me? I am its owner. It’s my home sweet home!
I continued to walk smiling and while climbing the stairs there was a scent that felt new. Well, I understood that I have been sniffing this scent all the time but it was this time that I realised that it was different from the outside. I walked to my room upstairs, on the first floor. I unlocked and got in. The smell grew dense and it filled my nostrils.
The smell of my home
This is the smell of my house! This is its scent. Maybe it’s the naphthalene balls, I thought and went back to bed. I just bumped on the bed, like gravity pulled me down. Back to names, I went. I would recognize Mr. Premji as Mr. Five By Five. He is five feet tall and seemingly wide. He reminds me of the song, Mr. Five by Five.
And this urge came to me to listen to that song. But I was too lazy to reach my phone that I left on the table in the living room. My drive to listen to the song wasn’t strong enough to motivate me from getting up. I kept lying there, looking at the edge of the pillow.
I noticed a small spider walking around the edge of the pillow. It is inches away from the tip of my nose and I guess it noticed this giant creature and is trying to run away. I blew air, like a sadist and saw the spider fall far away on the floor. And it struck me that my home is actually an ecosystem.
The baker, me, five other humans who live above, not only them, there are lizards, rats, roaches and spiders that live with me. I have inherited not just a building but an entire ecosystem, I thought. And I couldn’t shake this thought away. I don’t know why, but there was an urge to shout “ecosystem”. And like every other human, I am in control of my emotions too.
I shouted “ecosystem”, and I laughed. Then I took a deep breath. I noticed the scent again. This is my ecosystem too. This smell, the old radio, loose-hinged bed, half-rusty windows, paint flaky ceiling, and every corner about this house, they belong to me. NO, I belong to them.
My belonging is to every corner of this house, and couldn’t shake this feeling and to away with it I got up. I should have a coffee, I thought and rushed to the kitchen; my senses are all awake now. I saw myself and my memories everywhere around this place. It is indeed my home sweet home.
Memories in my home
I heated and poured some coffee and instinctively sat on the kitchen counter. I imagined my mother preparing food while I chatted to her while drinking coffee. And I imagine my sister yelling my name in an annoyed tone from the living room and my father entering the house after his work.
My senses. Smell, touch, objects that I see, sounds, and the taste of this coffee, they took me back in time. And after almost two decades, I realised this was my home; my ecosystem. That I belong here and it owns me. I understood why I never thought I belonged in the city. Because my ass always belongs here.
Now it might be dumb, it might just be a psychological construct, but I realised like any other human, even I was a mere human and I am already trapped in the sentiment of belonging. I don’t know how it happened, but there was an urge. And I realised that they are going to demolish the house in a week. Practically, I wouldn’t be able to capture the entire house in my memories.
Memories aren’t reliable and I want to capture every corner and every inch of this house. The drive was strong. So strong that I couldn’t resist. I rushed outside with my phone, I began clicking pictures. But it was not enough. Photos were not reliable too. I began recording the video of my entire house like an idiot.
I didn’t want to leave any corner un-recorded. The edge where I hit my head as a kid, the corner where I hid while playing hide and seek, I was not leaving anything go un-captured. I don’t know how it happened, but in the process of recording this ecosystem of mine, tears rolled down my eyes.
Reliving, capturing the last moments
I rushed downstairs, I wanted to capture the garden and the backyard. And I kept on recording and the tears rolled down, I kept wiping them. I’m selling the house, with it, I can’t survive, I can’t maintain it. Without it, I guess I’m homeless. Maybe I will be somewhere, plant my ass on a bed in some corner. But I won’t belong there.
Not as much as I belong here. This is my home sweet home, this is where I belong. I couldn’t control my tears anymore, I burst out falling on my knees in the garden. I don’t know what stuck me. But this smell, this sight, this touch of the mud, the taste of the coffee at the end of my tongue, I can not have these at one time again.
My home, sweet home
There would be a new smell, a new sight and a new ecosystem which won’t be mine till I finally delude myself and divert in the uncontrolled chaos of my life. But as a matter of fact; as a logical and quite evident observation, I can say with authority that this is my home!
A person’s sound of walking made me come back to this world again and I turned towards it. It was Mrs.Premji looking at me with sympathy in her eyes. “I understand, Krishna. It’s your home after all” she spoke softly. I nodded at her while I now finally understand what I’m doing, that I’m selling the place where I always belonged to. And I’m indeed sad or not happy at least.