Yaadon Ka Karkhana # 1- Homeless


Home. A place. A building. A memory. A feeling. Nostalgia. Childhood. Emotions. Dream. Desire. Family. Siblings. Happiness. Secrets. Songs. Heart. Soul. Love. Peace. A person. Home.


On rainy nights, when the pitter patter of the raindrops outside the window ceases being music and becomes a disturbance my heart wander offs to that one place I always craved for, a home. After jumping all across the timelines of my life, my thoughts slow down to that one person who defined it for me... in every possible way.

Home, for some is made of brick and mortar while for some, it is a person. How would you otherwise explain the peace you experience the moment you hug someone? The sense of belonging, their mere existence brings to you, cannot be defined in words. But, I will still try.

*-*-*-*

We met one rainy afternoon, when the roads of the city resembled water slides. Living in big cities teaches you the subtle art of sharing. We are expected to share everything from toilets to cabs and autos, even tables at crowded restaurants. So I wan't surprised when he asked if he could share the auto. After all, it was pouring heavily and there was no other option in sight. After that, it is all hazy. Our versions differ to what exactly happened. All I remember is, the memories of that afternoon still make me smile. 

We were eerily similar in almost everything. One felt like the extension of the other. Everytime we were together, every thing was magical. Those smiles, stupid jokes, our weird way of looking at life, unique approach to all the problems life had to offer, opinions about politics, favourite books and authors, movies, songs, nothing felt out of place. The conversations were as beautiful as the silences and the distances as poignant as the proximity. If anyone would have ever overheard our talks, they would have never believed we were talking about the same world inhibited by them. Our world, was actually different. 

Every time we held hands, it felt we are passing on strength to one another. It wasn't to say 'You are mine.' Rather it was a gesture that seemed to scream, 'I am afraid to lose you.' In the era of instant messaging apps and social media platforms, we used to write to each other. Long texts, emails and hand written notes, scribbled on the way back home in a crowded train as even though we had parted for the day, we continued to be in each others' thoughts. 

We spent many nights sitting under a star studded sky, comfortably wrapped in silence. We never talked about our dreams, because for us the other was a dream come true and somewhere deep within my heart I knew if this could happen to me, everything else that I dream of could also happen. Neither the past was talked about, nor the future. You could say we were overconfident. Isn't that what love does to you? It makes you heady and gives you unimaginable super powers.Well, love, is a super power.  

One night we fell asleep talking to each other on the phone and woke up, alone. There was a lot that could be blamed. Destiny, cruel world, society and societal norms. For us, only we were to be blamed. We let go of each other. We shouldn't have. If we would have held on tightly, maybe.... 

'If' and 'maybes' were now our world for that was the truth we were trying to live everyday. Life continues to go on except on lonely rainy nights like these when life threatens to get overwhelming to a point where it seems to be beyond control. There is a strange emptiness that comes from within, a feeling of being hollow, being lonely even when surrounded by loved ones and of being unable to gather the courage to dream, again. Was this how being homeless felt like?

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