Rashmi sat on the porch as always, watching the hues of the setting sun in the sky.She was recalling her past, which evoked themes of nostalgia,family ,and the emotional connection to her house.
At that time Raghu came and put her cup of tea and some roasted peanuts on the side table.
Rashmi smiled, thinking about Anuj, her son.
“Had he been here at the moment, he would have frowned at Raghu.Every month, righteously he sends dry fruits for me online and called to say, munch a fistfull everyday maa.”
But Raghu , the old timer ,knows how much she loves peanuts.
Now the children are settled and they are staying in far off places.When they visit,the house feels different.Previously there were conflicts among them.Now it feels edited, contained, and polite. It adopts a kind of modern modesty.These are the moments when she too feels herself resized to fit into the new dimensions.Life has become different she thinks.So also is she.While they are here , her gestures and laughter become smaller.Modern life has trained them all to guard their time and their energy, but to look at the phone continuously and be busy in texting. They react to the messages, laughing, smiling and frowning.To talk to the persons around seems to be is banned now-a-days.
After getting a good job , Anuj has been trying to modify the old house to new style.Now the house looks spick and span, as though prepared for an inspection.
She walked through the hallway, running her hand along the wall , where once pencil marks were reaching high with the growth of her sweet , naughty children,Anuj, Meena and Reena.Their scribbles irritated her at that time.Everyday she complained to her hubby that why he was not telling anything to them..He used to smile as usual ,” have you ever seen better fine art than this?”
She had never painted them.They were the proof that the house was once stretched, expanded.Looking at the uneven lines , she feels both pride and grief.Ah , how much she likes to revert them to childhood again.
“Growth after all is a kind of departure”, she sighed.
The hallway was stretched longer those days , because it was a race track.The backwards widened as children visited it frequently , bringing leaves and flowers inside house and creating headache for both of her and of Raghu.But the dust, the mud , all had a flavour of their own..The hallway too looked bigger.School bags, back packs,rain coats were thrown on sofas and the drawers were something like a treasure land.Their fights,their arguments , and laughter , were heard in every corner of the house.The doors were slammed , sounding summer thunder.
The kitchen too seems constricted, no more spills no more crowd , no disorder .Then , when they were small,one demanded a boiled egg and the other of an omlette.The youngest liked poached egg, and there would be a quarrel over who is harassing maa more.
It is a modular kitchen now and she cooks there mechanically.The counters gleam . There are no scattered utensils. They are set properly in drawers .All facilities at hand yet a feeling in her, it has shrunk.
Why?
She misses the crow on the window sill, waiting for it’s share of bread. The beautiful cat with black patches on her shining white body has stopped entering,while fishes are being fried.These small things made her heart enlarged with happiness.
When children are here,they compliment the home made food.Before consuming they take photo of the yummy food items.But at the same time, they start talking about calories , of dieting.In her memory , the house was untidy, but the doors were open generously for guests who had unscheduled visits, without previous intimation.The pleasant surprises are no more , as if they have vanished from the society.
Formalities in home ,somewhat feels uncomfortable.A home should be a home with all its realities, with all its faults.The squabbles inside the house miss these days.They somewhat add spice to lives.She now feels,
The house was never vast for its architecture.
