Home

The home that I remember was red bricks,green grass,white walls,sunflowers,winter sun,chairs in the garden ,a small backyard ,a papaya tree,rooftops,starry nights,my little side pillow,the outside chitter chatter about worldviews,politics,opinions,a feeling of comfort ,of being loved.

Yes I grew up in such a place.And in Delhi.Twenty odd years of my life.Friends,uncles,aunties,writers,thinkers,historians -all of it.This place has so many years of my life...all those years that contribute to my becoming into who I am today.

Unfortunately , this home now only exists in my thoughts. I long for that home.

I have always tried as much as I could to make a home out of all the places that I have lived,always wanting to slip into the familiar ... only to realize that someone was right when they said 'Home is where the heart is'.The word itself carries with it so many memories.

Home is truly about being loved.It is that feeling you get when you lie in your bed and think that tonight you will have the most peaceful sleep .

I miss that home...my haven.

And now as I move forward into a life that sometimes I can't wait for...and perhaps to another home ,in search of my haven...all I have are my prayers ,my wishes and dreams that I create a home...a real home.