"I'm home", I announced with delight as I walked into my home where I was the only living being. You call it empty? I call it my home. Full of me.
As I sauntered in, I lay my bag on the sofa, with a lot of reverence. Well, my bag was tired too. I walked to the puja room and prayed for a few seconds to the gods who were like "kshetra palakas" for my home. And me.
Switching on the lights in the kitchen, I lit the stove and silently started to cook my dinner. And pondered over my day. As I do everyday. There's comfort in habits. Sometimes, it is habits that make you feel belonged.
A demon of a thought slowly crept out of the bushes of my mind. Took a very weird shape in the steam that sizzled out of the old Prestige pressure cooker. It was real. Real enough to mock my loneliness.
The little devil laughed at me and my inability to take a joke that was on me. That morning. I still remember what my dear friend told me when we were having coffee. It was a happy chat. A very friendly chat. We were laughing over something one moment. And then she said it. Said something that truly hit me deeply.
I wonder why I took it so personally? The demon mocked at my insecurity again. With so much gusto that my heart ached. Painful. And sharp.
I didnt want to die this way. Of a broken heart. As a fool who didnt understand the crux of life. As a person who didnt ever experience the feeling of being belonged. To a place. To people. To myself.
Why does a jovial line like: "I will cut you off from my life one day" sound so sad to my ears? Even within a funny context?
Crazy times. :-) :-)
Homey. I am home. A warm embrace. Chatter about the day. Hot and fresh dinner. Cuddle and sleep. Impossibilities of my life.
Change is the only constant? On a wing and a prayer.
As I sauntered in, I lay my bag on the sofa, with a lot of reverence. Well, my bag was tired too. I walked to the puja room and prayed for a few seconds to the gods who were like "kshetra palakas" for my home. And me.
Switching on the lights in the kitchen, I lit the stove and silently started to cook my dinner. And pondered over my day. As I do everyday. There's comfort in habits. Sometimes, it is habits that make you feel belonged.
A demon of a thought slowly crept out of the bushes of my mind. Took a very weird shape in the steam that sizzled out of the old Prestige pressure cooker. It was real. Real enough to mock my loneliness.
The little devil laughed at me and my inability to take a joke that was on me. That morning. I still remember what my dear friend told me when we were having coffee. It was a happy chat. A very friendly chat. We were laughing over something one moment. And then she said it. Said something that truly hit me deeply.
I wonder why I took it so personally? The demon mocked at my insecurity again. With so much gusto that my heart ached. Painful. And sharp.
I didnt want to die this way. Of a broken heart. As a fool who didnt understand the crux of life. As a person who didnt ever experience the feeling of being belonged. To a place. To people. To myself.
Why does a jovial line like: "I will cut you off from my life one day" sound so sad to my ears? Even within a funny context?
Crazy times. :-) :-)
Homey. I am home. A warm embrace. Chatter about the day. Hot and fresh dinner. Cuddle and sleep. Impossibilities of my life.
Change is the only constant? On a wing and a prayer.
You write fabulously. As always. something never ever change.
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