Home

Home is an illusion, I miss my grandpa’s house where I spent so many summers drawing, painting..Home is also looking out of my room onto the pond and watching the fish swim..Home is also in the green hills of Scotland where I learnt horse riding and spent the two best years of my childhood..There is nothing more comforting than home is a place where laughter rings,where fears are converted into dreams and where my soul finds space to breathe and come alive..

But home is also a place where doors bang,rooms remain closed and people fear to say what they feel like, live like prisoners in tiny rooms due to constraints.Home is also an illusion which some chase all their lives but sometimes pass away.

Sharing a bit from Perumal Murugan’s poem “Hometown”

Don’t be in haste

to ask anyone
about their hometown.

There might be people
who cannot tell you their hometown.

There might be people
who dream about their hometown.

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