A home is where the heart is

A home is where the heart is…something which I realised in depth about a month back. Having stayed in Pune for seven and a half years, I never realised when did my heart and soul got attached to the place. Pune had been where I did my Post Graduation, made a lot of friends. It had been a place which coincidentally taught me my life’s biggest lessons. It taught me that relationships don’t last forever, and sometimes it is best to give away a few people from our lives. Out of the 21 years I stayed in Delhi, and 7.5 years I stayed in Pune, I can without a glitch say that I felt more for Pune. The city had always had a special charm of its own, which made it special in its own league. For me Delhi mainly meant one thing, my Grandmom’s house. The house where I was born and brought up. The house where I used to come back from school and wait for my parents to get back from work. Two years back, my Grandmom’s house was being sold off as it had been lying vacant for quite some time. I still remember how much my grandmom was putting off the sale. She had this attachment with the house, which I guess none of us, which includes her children or even I couldn’t understand. All of us were the practical bunch who thought that a house lying vacant is not worth it. It should be either let out or sold off. Financial prudence says so. And finally, it was sold off, and I did not know, or rather never wanted to know how my grandmom felt. But today I have a fair glimpse of what exactly she must have gone through. We bought our Pune house the same year we got married. It was the house where we entered with lots of hopes and love in our hearts. And did the house give us what we yearned for? Yes it did wholeheartedly. That was the house where we had our son, where he fell umpteen number of times before learning to walk, where I had painstakingly worked on every detail of our interiors, made a lot of good friends, started my teaching career, played hide and seek and many more of the things which we never realized while it was taking place. And then one fine day, we decided to relocate to Bangalore because of many reasons, all for good ofcourse. We decided to sell off the house which was ours for 4.5 years. And while doing the sale activities, it did not look that difficult. It was more of a practical decision and we wanted to keep it like that. PRACTICAL…And then on the last day, when all our things were packed and the house was vacant, I looked around. It was as if the memories were just waiting to hit hard on my face. I was actually reliving all the memories in one go. I could virtually see my son running around, Manu and I having our arguments and then smiling at each other, me watering my plants, our hide and seek sessions and of course the never forgettable, the moment when we entered the house with Anirudh in my arms, as a new born. I had nothing to do, other than crying…and that’s all I did. Being practical had no place in my heart at that moment. Today, its been 1 month and 10 days exactly and am still getting used to the new place, people, climate and house. I thoroughly miss my neighbours, friends, Anirudh’s old school, my library, my watchman, the lanes near my house, my grocery guy, everything under the sky which was in and around my house. And then there are times when I become my practical self and that’s when I feel I will come over all of it and lead my life the perfect way. But yes, today I know how exactly my grandmom must have felt, leaving her house where she had spent a major part of her life. I think today, I feel I am the only one in my family who truly understands what my grandmother must have really felt. Today I know how much of my love and heart went into my house. My only prayer today is that, the same amount of love and heart goes into our present house, so that I can call it my HOME.