Homecoming

Its been over a year since I went to the house and I realize now how much of the house I actually miss. Its really strange that I have always had a knack of establishing contact and instant connections with all things that are non living. I dont know how or why but then I have realized that this is simpler that establishing human relationships. Hmmm. Maybe my connection with the house does have to do with the people living in it. My grandparents.

My earliest memory of my grandfather is quite strange actually. I remember me all of three years old, sitting on his lap. It seems to be afternoon and my grandad is feeding his only grand daughter. Now I take pride in the fact that I am one of his oldest grand children. We cousins are about 8 of us on the whole of which 6 are boys. The so called first born is a boy and is just a mere 3 months older than me. My grand parents were based out of Chennai when I was born and therefore it was only natural that my working parents would entrust me in their care. Not that I complained. Thanks to them, I never ever felt that I dint get the love or the attention that I needed. In fact, I got it so much that I can safely say I was a rather indulgent(read spoilt!!) child.

I enjoyed my afternoon meals with my grandad up until I was about 4 or 5 years old. Grandma was an amazing lady, and she still is. Although not quite as expressive as her husband, I knew that I was the apple of her eye. There was nothing that she wouldnt do for me. My memories of her include playing house house in the kitchen with her and our daily evening walks. I virtually used to push her into "Vakil kadai" and insist on "Aasai" chocolates. I would be rewarded with one everyday and it was a real shame, considering that it costed her a mere Rs 0.25.

Thus I took immense pride in the fact that I was their bundle of joy. Literally. As my cousins were born one by one, I had fully anticipated that things would change. I thought that I would be expected to grow up and take responsibility. To my utter amazement I still was doted on. They had left Chennai more than a decade and a half ago (an agonizing experience for me) and this spelt nothing but DOOM for me. I spent the rest of my "childhood" afternoons eating by myself from a plate and throwing paper rockets at a servant who stretched herself across the main door and slept soundly, oblivious to everything around her.

Coming back to the house and my connection with it. It was a lovely house actually set right across a small lake in Gods Own Country. Yes, I am from the land of coconuts and "kappa"and I have no qualms accepting it. This house was typically everything that a house in Kerala was. It was set bang in between a beautiful garden that my grandad carefully planted and took care of like his own children. My summers were spent getting my hands dirty gardening and watering the plants twice a day. I still remember I used to wake up everyday and pray that it rained so that I would be spared of this daunting task. Gardening was not exactly my cup of tea but I did it anyway just so that I could watch him beam at my shoddy work after I was done.

The house is the best house I have ever lived in. Its nothing short of heaven. It had about 5 bedrooms, 2 living rooms, a study, 2 kitchens, 3 bathrooms and a pooja room. There is an open courtyard right at the center of the house and this is where I have spent a LOT of my time, enjoying the rain when I was younger and putting some of the best thoughts I have had on paper. There is something infinitely inspiring about that house. I loved the house as I had never ever lived in something that had so many rooms in it. I feel a sense of freedom when I go there even today.

The best part about the house is that everytime I go there, I feel a sense of belonging. I feel at home instantly and that feeling is something I havent experienced even in my own home in Chennai. No matter how many times I go there, the house always has something new in store for me. There would be something that my grandfather (once an architect) did to modernize the place. I have told him to repeatedly let things be as it is but he refuses to listen. And I love discovering the little surprises the house has in store for me when I go back.

The truth is that house has completed me... and my life. Whether its the charm of the house in itself, the blessings of the people who have lived and died in that house or just the fact that the two people I love the most live in it; the house has ceased to serve its purpose. It has grown beyond that. To me, it was..it is... and will always be HOME.