Today, I'll drift asleep to the reassuring ebb and flow of the waves, for the last time ever in my life; in the house I call my second home.
It stands like a silent sentinel over the sea as it always has since a long, long time. It wasn't a house earlier, but a sprawling bungalow with coconut trees in the courtyard; and sand coming right upto the doorstep.
Except that now, the salty ocean air will need to get used to blowing through a house with unknown people.
I feel like a part of my childhood's being plucked out from me. I was nursed back to health by my doting grandmother during the first few months of my life, which I spent in the house by the sea. My first trip to the beach and zoo, my first omelette, my first crochet stitch, my first ghost story, my first rakhi ceremony, my first taste of spaghetti....where have all these memories disappeared?
The first time I, as a precocious seven year-old, lay in the rain-soaked grass in the lawns and stared up at the night sky, I still remember how happy I felt. Giggling and laughing away, me and my "building friends" had not a care in the world that day. Whenever I looked out at the sea and the flashing lights on the horizon, an all-pervading sense of peace would take over me, something that I never ever felt before.
It stands like a silent sentinel over the sea as it always has since a long, long time. It wasn't a house earlier, but a sprawling bungalow with coconut trees in the courtyard; and sand coming right upto the doorstep.
Except that now, the salty ocean air will need to get used to blowing through a house with unknown people.
I feel like a part of my childhood's being plucked out from me. I was nursed back to health by my doting grandmother during the first few months of my life, which I spent in the house by the sea. My first trip to the beach and zoo, my first omelette, my first crochet stitch, my first ghost story, my first rakhi ceremony, my first taste of spaghetti....where have all these memories disappeared?
The first time I, as a precocious seven year-old, lay in the rain-soaked grass in the lawns and stared up at the night sky, I still remember how happy I felt. Giggling and laughing away, me and my "building friends" had not a care in the world that day. Whenever I looked out at the sea and the flashing lights on the horizon, an all-pervading sense of peace would take over me, something that I never ever felt before.
My favourite pastime was rummaging in the old cupboards that housed articles from my mother's childhood; and spending hours looking at faded black and white photos. (It's actually quite fun, seeing all your relatives in pint-sized versions and then trying to identify them). I really want to go back into the past, to the old bungalow and see for myself how beautiful it must have been.
The house itself was so peaceful, that all my worries would disappear whenever I closed my eyes and stood at the balcony, letting the wind blow over my face and through my hair. It's hard to imagine not being able to go there anymore.
I miss all the happy times I had there. Like old wallpaper loosening at the corners, the memories are slowly coming apart.
Nearly everyone on my mother's side of the family is connected to it. They still remember the old swing sets and the prawn pulao and excitedly reminisce about their childhood. Numerous animals have roamed the corridors of this place since as long as I can remember. Will a homeless dog be welcomed home with the same love and affection now? I hope for the best.
I'm very, very sad that it's not going to be ours anymore. Especially when nearly half my childhood has been spent there.
Nearly everyone on my mother's side of the family is connected to it. They still remember the old swing sets and the prawn pulao and excitedly reminisce about their childhood. Numerous animals have roamed the corridors of this place since as long as I can remember. Will a homeless dog be welcomed home with the same love and affection now? I hope for the best.
I'm very, very sad that it's not going to be ours anymore. Especially when nearly half my childhood has been spent there.
Imagine not being able to stand at the balcony and feel the wind in your hair anymore. It's painful to think about looking up at it from the main road and decide you want to drop in, when a stab of painful realisation reminds you that you no longer have anyone there waiting to welcome you in.
House No. C-15; the House by the Sea. I'm going to miss it a lot.
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