#ThankYouNote to my home #ThankfulThursday

Buying a house is a breeze nowadays, but that wasn’t true earlier. I had seen my parents struggle to get their home. A friend’s dad invested in a plot of land, but the dealer was a fraud and he ran off with all the money. Heartaches related to important investments like home can be stressful and emotionally tormenting. After seeing such incidents at close quarters, we were extremely cautious when we were buying our house. Our first home was the result of a lot of research and thought.

After looking at many projects, we finally zeroed in on this house. The project had the right mix of open spaces and spacious homes, while being close to daily needs and offices. The moment we saw it, we knew we had to make it our own.

Home is where the heart is

I still remember the day we signed on the dotted line. There was happiness, but there was also the realization of additional responsibility. While the project took off on a great start, due to some unavoidable circumstances the possession was delayed. We were a worried lot, as though the builder was of good repute, delayed possession meant the burden of EMI and rent. Thankfully all went well and we got our apartment.

When we got our possession, we went around town looking for good furniture and furnishings that fit our budget. We explored millions of designs online and in stores and zeroed in on what worked design and budget wise. After the initial research we preferred hiring a carpenter and getting the furniture done the way we liked it.

We shouldered all the responsibilities on our own – getting the material, the carpenters, the paints and all that, but it was a fun and memorable experience. We felt the joy of making an apartment our home, giving it a bit of our identity and persona. Every piece in my home has a story to it and each time I see it, a smile appears on my face.

Our bundle of joy started walking here and made new friends. She was at her naughty best here and also developed a mature persona. This house has been witness to the many joyous occasions and also a few achievements.

I have a lot to be thankful for this house. It has been an abode of happiness, peace and contentment and that’s what I wish it to be for years to come. #ThankyouHome

Childhood Memories I am thankful for


Indian Bloggers

I came across this prompt on Amrita and Deepa’s Thankful Thursday’s. I loved it the moment I read it but wasn’t getting around to put it down. That is when I read about #Tiniature on Twitter and decided to work on that with this theme.

Childhood Memories

In a way, I am thankful that my childhood memories do not include gadgets and expensive toys as it was through these memories that I discovered kindness and humanity.

There were no mobiles then, but still, somehow we managed to communicate and there was never a worried moment for my parents, caused by non-communication. We didn’t even have a landline for a long time and giving out a PP phone number was okay, but it came with a long list of do’s and don’ts. Interestingly, these lists did teach me to think from other’s perspective. There were no maps but we never got lost. We relied on the knowledge of helpful rickshaw drivers, the traffic policeman, and others.

I traveled alone to school right from my primary schooling days. Went in a public transport, but was never worried as I knew the streets were filled with guardian angels. I didn’t know about the evils of the society but have experienced numerous instances where these guardian angels came in and swooped me away from any possible harm. In most cases, these were strangers who considered a child as a collective responsibility. That was a time when people were watchful about their surroundings and weren’t lost in their mobile world.

It was a time when strangers didn’t think twice before questioning someone’s intent and if anybody questioned, ‘Why are you bothered?’ the instant reply was ‘Hamari beti hai’ Though the nosy neighbor was annoying, she would keep an eye if your child went out alone. The local grocer would be watchful till you turned into your lane if you came to buy something alone.

Those were the days when for every single evil there were a hundred angels. Today we have progressed a lot but the human connect seems missing. How I wish we could have a happy blend of both the world’s so that my children could enjoy an equally carefree childhood.

 

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Update – This post went on to be the winning post for the prompt! Yay!! Super happy 🙂

Quaint Wada

Photo Credit- Sawantwadi MC.org Chitnis Wada

Tara was home. A sprawling dwelling made of stone on a busy city street. This quaint wada had been built around 100 years ago. A small but beautiful garden welcomed you once you entered the gate and at the end of a meandering cobbled path was the main entrance of the place. As she walked in, the city noise magically vanished. It was a special day today and all her family members had descended on this place, but nobody was in a chatty mood. They acknowledged one another, but all were busy having a dialogue with the wada. Even the ever querulous aunt was uncannily quiet.

Four generations, of the family, had lived in this wada together. Tara smiled as memories of the many pranks played by her and her boisterous cousins played back in her head. This wada had been her sanctuary, a place to run away to from the pressures of modern living. The quaint surroundings filled her heart with peace. She had learnt, lived, loved and even wept here in its embrace. She saw everyone was lost in their thoughts. Everyone had many stories that just flowed out from the recesses of their memories.

Now, as is the rule of nature, the old had to make way for the new and the wada was being torn down to make way for modern apartments. Today was a get-together where they all came and bid goodbye to their beloved wada before it became history.

*Disclaimer- The image is just used for representative purpose. The story is not about this wada and is a work of fiction.

Linking this story with A-ZChallenge and Blogchatter.

Nasty

Every morning he left his empty home

A home which was filled with memories

For a noisy, crowded yet lonely office

In that big office of many, he was just a cog in the wheel

While he did his work well, he always had a frown on his forehead

His nasty mood never seemed to change

He never mixed with his colleagues, nor was he accommodating

He did his job and expected others to do the same

Some said he was a prisoner of the past

While some who had faced his wrath remarked that he was a wacko

Once the day ended, he headed straight to a city theater

Inside as the make-up colored his face,

He was transformed from a man with a nasty temper into a character.

A king, a begger, a policeman, a father or a mad lover

He performed each role with élan

For those three hours he lived their life

Happy to be free from worldly ties,

Feeding his soul and truly living his life.

Down the memory lane

We were back after two decades in those familiar surroundings

Much had changed, yet nobody felt out of place

Such was the charisma of ‘College Reunion’ that nobody was too busy to miss.

The once loved faces and figures were transformed by wrinkles and pot bellies

Yet, no one felt the need to hide or a reason to point.

The evening that had started with an awkward ‘hello’, soon gave way

to loud laughs, nostalgic memories, back-slaps and continuous chatter

The college queen of yester-years was today a chic kitty party diva

The secret crushes of yesterday, shared a hearty laugh and swapped family mantra

The first benchers seemed disenchanted in their secure governement jobs

The smart ones shared their corporate growth with anyone who cared

And it was the back-benchers who spoke about investment, entrepreneurship and profits.

The bitter foes of past had patched up and once passionate lovers were amicable strangers today

Yes, much had changed, yet today was special.

Coz, the unforgettable past and the beautiful future converged on the borders of today as we took a trip down the memory lane

Linking this up with BlogChatter prompt of the week

Life is but a memory…

I came across a blog post by Rachana that talked about not having many physical memories of our parents, thereby not having enough to share with our children or even holding on to it once they are no more. It’s a valid point, as photography wasn’t a rage back then. Also the fact that a physical film role came with restricted 36 pics at a time; add to it the expenses involved in buying the film, developing it etc. clicking pictures ended up being a lofty idea for the middle class.

Clicking pictures was either going to a studio or waiting for dad to roll up the camera with ‘kodak film’ rolls. Studio pictures were nothing short of a mini-celebration. You wore the best of clothes, had the best of smiles and were specifically instructed to ‘not close your eyes when the bright light blinks!’ Coz that meant a family pic where you looked like you were napping, and as it wasn’t a digital era, you hardly got a re-take.

Even we have very few pictures of our family. The camera came into our house after my younger sibling was born, so till then the pics that we have are all studio pics and they are very few. The roll camera just helped us capture our memories related to some family functions or the occasional trips that we undertook. Keeping the film roll in the camera for long increased the chances of it being exposed, thereby losing all the pictures, hence the film was rolled only for special occasions.

But I don’t really miss the non-existence of these pictures, even if my dad isn’t around today. For me and my sis he was a wonderful father and we have numerous memories of him. I am sure there must be many memories that must have faded or lost for non-availability of a way to document it, but I also know that the best of them are there. The reason- good old way of word of mouth!

Life is a memory and then it is nothing – Cormac Mc Carthy

We are a big family and make it a point to meet atleast once a year. There is grandma, her cousins and their kids and their kids and so on. Over the years, even if we don’t meet every year, we have met enough to have shared a lot of memories. I have seen my dad from various perspectives, understood the many facets of his life and probably learnt a few things about him that I didn’t know. There are some good memories and some not so good. There are instances where I don’t agree with what he did or what was done to him, but it does help me understand the person that he really was.

memories

photo credit Pixabay

So, I know him from a mother’s view point, wife’s, friends, cousins, a niece and even a grandchild’s viewpoint. They all have some stories or memories that are close to them and when they share it, it always shows me a new aspect about him. Once a year, when we all sit together after a hearty meal, it’s time to go down the memory lane. Remember and relive the memories of the past. With teary eyes we remember the few who aren’t with us and share the many fun filled incidents that remain fresh in our minds.

Even today, when I miss him terribly all I need to do is close my eyes and every memory comes flooding back. I know my children won’t know him the way we did, but I really hope that someday I pass on all these memories to help my children get a faint impression of what a person their grandpa was.

Photo Credit – Pixabay