In a world getting flatter and smaller, space is the final frontier. Day in and day out, we jostle for that illusive space - for privacy, for passion, for intimacy, for introspection. A bubble where we can be ourselves, irrespective of how undesirable and unfortunate an outcome it may be.
The most intimate and basic unit of space that one strives
for, is home. It represents our earliest and the most cherished memories, and
also holds the promise of posterity and legacy. It
encompasses the plushness of a palace with the security of a fort; it
dovetails the fantasies of childhood with the successes of adult
life.
A
home transcends the four walls of a house. It is where all roads lead
to - a place we are programmed to reach even when our mind is busy
thinking about other things in life. Its warmth is evident even before we enter it; the surging pride that one gets when one glances at
the nameplate, prominently displaying one's own name or that of a
loved one.
Metaphorically
named, the living room is the space where everything has a place and
there is a place for everything. It represents an area that defies
the notion of things being beyond our control. It is our island in
the midst of a tumultuous sea of uncertainty; a constant source of
respite from the humdrum of everyday life. It is the first and, most
often, the only area of a home that is laid open to the prying eyes
of the outside world and it is appropriately (but more often, inappropriately) embellished to serve that very purpose. The living room is also a fulcrum in the work-life balance; where the balance finally tilts towards life.
The
kitchen is a magical room where ingredients and spices are combined
in time-tested cauldrons, stirred with
passion and served with love to not only satisfy the stomach but
also satiate the soul. It is a treasure trove of utensils and secret recipes that are passed on from one generation to another. We all have a tarnished aluminium spoon that we were fed baby food with, and it still makes food taste uniquely delicious; or a steel 'tumbler' (sic, TamBram-ism) with an unevenly rounded bottom that we have grown to accept and love in spite of its deficient posture.
For
a hard day's night, we have the bedroom. The holiest of holies,
the sanctum sanctorum, a sanctuary for the beast that inhabits us - it
is also where we uninhibitedly exhibit love; love for a person, a
book, music or even some midnight comfort food. It is here where we live out our fantasies
– we even describe our beds rather euphemistically as
'king-sized' or 'queen-sized'.
And
finally, there is the bathroom; the place where one truly awakens
after waking up. It is a bathtub for every Archimedes's Eureka and a seat for every Rodin's Thinker. It is the place where all ideas strike and also
where most of our days are planned. And although I don't have any statistical evidence to back this; it is a reading library for quite a few of us.
Our home is the sum total of all the sweat, tears and
toil that we put in throughout our lives. A small piece of land that
we can proudly call our own and a roof that seemingly shuts off the
sky.
This
is a semi-distilled compilation of the myriad thoughts that came to me, when I
thought of home. All these statements may or may not
stand cohesively to form or carry forward a thought. They
were never intended to.
