Thursday, September 25, 2014

Home, wanted

It was food that touched my tongue and my eyes that responded. 
Daal Baati Choorma for dinner in the mess. As close to home as I could get.

It is amazing how the tiniest thing can inspire the strongest of the emotions; how it can unlock a surge of memories, tastes, smells and touches. And how disconnected and accidental tastes, smell and touches transport you into visions that transcend the boundaries of physical distance. It's funny how superficial physical proximity is that way, and yet it is so essential, so capturing.

We spend our entire lives trying to make homes out of places and then out of people; trying to see where we belong - culturally, intellectually, emotionally, habitually, spiritually. More often than not, these 'homes' don't even overlap. We hold the ends all these threads, trying to keep ourselves from coming apart at the seams. 

These threads - lifelines - they have a mind of their own, don't they? They keep us sane, being there so solidly until one day, suddenly, they are gone. And we are left grasping wisps that they leave behind. Some are lucky enough to find some that hold on to that one thing, that one lifeline that lasts them a lifetime - in physicality or in memory. For some, neither is enough. 

We lose our bearings for some time, but then, we keep some, we lose some, we find some. It goes on. We are always moving anyway aren't we? We don't stop. Moments become crystallized in memory, but we don't stop. Even if we tried to, we could not stop because life goes on. It is merely comfortable to think if such and such thing happens, my life will end. It never does. Cruelly, brutally, beautifully, indifferently, it goes on. We are left to play catch up. And if we don't, time takes its toll. 

Home is where the heart lies, they say. For some of us, the heart lies at the one place we call home. But then, as we go places, meet people, we make little homes in them, as they do in us. Conversations, touches, kisses, laughter, gestures or just a look shared for the briefest second - our hearts become home to so many loves, lives and moments. We paint a picture of 'home' in the very same hearts and keep it there while it yearns for the past, present and future. 

We meander our way through life making homes, breaking homes and missing homes. We are all changing a little bit with everyone who we touch who is trying to do the same. We are all connected that way - so superficially, invisibly and yet, so deeply. In the end, aren't we all trying to stand out and still trying to belong?

Because sometimes, I find myself craving for a cushion that makes me forget, even if it is momentary, how much I have grown up.


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