I turned eighteen years old, having never lived in one place for more than two years. Even less, in one house. Those were barracks, small rooms, apartments or bungalows but never homes I could call my own. Even though I lived there, I was in a perpetual state of preparedness to leave. My parents had their rightful homes to go back to at Mumbai and Pune. I never got a chance to stay there for more than three weeks at a stretch. Those were still houses to visit during vacations. Not homes. After school, I stated studying architecture in Pune staying with my grandparents, where I knew that although that was rightfully my own house, it was never my home. I lived in Surya and Vasanti's house for a few months in Auroville. It was called House sitting, not home sitting. And for a good reason – Its supposed to be a house for me, not a home.
As I left Pondicherry, when everyone was going back to their respective hometowns, I was not. I was just returning to Pune. Everyone has a home they call their own. A home to go back to after a hard days work. A town they grew up in. A town they call their own. I never had that. Probably never will. Wherever I go from here, will not be my home either.
Last night at my uncle's place, I stayed up for a long time, thinking about this. And when I finally did... I slept rather well.
I am truly- a homeless woman.
At some point a few years from now, maybe when you're married, maybe when your kids are old enough to understand what a home means, you will realize you have a home. You have had it longer than you realize.
ReplyDeleteI haven't lived in my hometown since 2005. I haven't lived in the same house for more than a year(I have moved my belongings through at least 10 room/house/apartment/dorm), I haven't lived in the same city for more than two years. And this topic of home and settling down crosses my mind too; too often.
its all about accepting a place as your home. for me, Pune can easily be my home but I am not accepting it as mine. Its not something I can change so easily because its just the way I am. For me, there is no place called home. If I was asked to move at this very moment, I would. All my belongings, all that I am attached to, can easily fit into a few boxes. A home cannot.
ReplyDeleteFor the first eighteen years of their lives if someone doesn't understand the concept of the conventional 'home', there is no way they ever can, since there is nowhere for them to go back to. there is no one place that has made them what they are.
I don't think I can ever really settle down. I might eventually live at one place or one house, but It'll never truly be my home. I don't regret it though.
It's great if you do not regret the fact that you do not have a thing they traditionally call "home". "Home" is more of a feeling than en entity. If you feel comfortable in a certain state(a state means a state of mind, not Maharashtra or Rajasthan!), that is your "home".
ReplyDeleteI have lived the first eighteen years of my life in exactly the opposite way as yours. 13 years in the same school, never stepped out of pune except for a trip in the first 23 years of life, though changed the houses every 5 years.
The first time I moved out of the country, i had this feeling of suddenly getting "homeless", but now, after settling here, at that point of realisation, it dawned upon me that a home is within yourself. That rented apartment in Jakarta is my home for now because it has "us (me n my family)" in it. But not just the family, it is a place where I can be myself; guess that is what is home :)