Calling a place home comes easy to me. Most houses that I've stayed in, fortunately, have become home; so have many people, and they continue to be. But there is one image in particular that comes unbidden every time someone utters the word home……that of a seven year old running around in a mosaic floor (all Indian millennials will know the exact pattern I'm thinking of), darting from room to room, looking at the old TV, trying to scale the bookshelves. She appears to look around the house as if it holds answers to all the mysteries in the universe, as if she didn't experience the greatest loss of her life little less than a year ago in that very same house. I definitely came into my own person in college but I think I started to see it take shape in that house. Almost like an unfinished Monet painting, or one that was looked at too closely - as what looked like random paint blotches, waiting for an experienced observer to view it from a distance to get a perspective on the...
I am my mother's daughter. I look like my dad, I speak like my dad and many say that I behave like him too, but I am my mother's daughter. It was easy to call my dad a role model, because I only knew him for 6 short years and I guess death does tend to soften memories. I've only heard of great things about him - from my mom and everybody else. There was an altar of legacy built around him where I had to be the perfect copy to carry the torch forward. With amma though, I could just be. I could be whatever I want and would be accepted for it. Amma tends to downplay her role in building the person I am now. She thinks genes and 6 years of inane babbling with my dad has contributed to my personality more than 23 years of consistent effort she has put on me. Everything I know about love, commitment, kindness and a hundred other things are solely because of her. There are not enough words to explain everything she has taught me and how much I love her; but words are the only thin...
I've never seen love age. When I say love, I mean love between two people in companionship. My dad died when I was young and so did my grandfather. So sadly all I saw was a pair of women who were mourning their love. Don't get me wrong, their love didn't fade way. Amma and Appachan's love lives through the fond stories my mother tells and the little private smile she has when I call her "aanoo" (ആനോ) - the name my dad used to call her. So I've seen long lasting love; but that love is a longing, a lament. My parents had a difficult and impoverished childhood, which is probably why I don't see a lot of friendships that stood the test of time. For some weird reason, none of my siblings also has friends that could show me how love travelled through life and aged. Which is why the videos of old couples bring tears to my eyes - to see the fortune of being in love and being reminded that you get to share your life with them everyday. The little cynic in me ...
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