On Days Noone Would.

Some views from my childhood home.

They say you draw or paint a lot of what you love. I could never explain to anyone how much I loved this house, how much I loved being in this house, how much I just loved existing in this house.

It was nothing fancy; in fact, it was a very modest 2bhk that the four of us lived in for 22 years. It's been a year since we moved out, but it feels like it was a pet puppy that always waited for me to return. Privacy simply couldn't exist in a house like that, but it made up for it by knitting the family tight.

It has seen the best and the worst of my life, it has seen me grow up for 22 years, it has seen my childhood bestfriend grow up with me, it has seen my late grandfather sing and dance, it has seen life-altering altercations and decisions being made, it has seen me paint its walls and decorate its limbs, it has seen our floods and our puyals, it has seen the pandemic and its hospitalisations, it has seen me go from hating my brother as a toddler to yearning for him to come home as an adolescent, and most of all, it has seen me. On the days noone could, on the days noone would.

Of all the reasons I could give for why I would always rush to just go be home, the one I could come closest to explaining is how this little matchbox of a house is an enclosure of all my happiest childhood memories and how everytime I woke up in the morning, the birds that chirp outside my window and the sun and the wind that gush in through all its sides without missing a day momentarily reminded me that no matter what happens in life, this is permanent. The memories are permanent. And that puts a smile on my face and brings a warm fuzz to my heart.