I am leaving you house,forever, and its okay if you don't miss me.Even if you unconcernedly make new memories with strange people its fine by me.For it is but natural that others should love you as well.
I just hope they notice how your walls and ceiling have the power to let be.How they don't crowd thoughts in so they are left jostling for space.How they don't shame you into inaction with their hauteur .I wonder if it left any mark on you when my mind grew along your walls.
Wouldn’t it be a pity if no one again realized that the corner of the verandah where the crows mass at dusk is a perfect hideaway. That cushions fit in there with a peculiar snugness and the ledge ends at shoulder height exactly.So you can sit and look out.The ghost of an eight year old me with mango juice dripping off my chin onto the pages of Famous Five will haunt this place always.Or maybe one a decade older in striped nightshirt and tousled hair.
I hope they appreciate your endearing gawkiness.The look of having grown too tall too fast.Awkward and yellow, looking around unsurely at the surrounding not-so-high-rises.I promise a mental hug everytime I pass by on the flyover.
They will of course never know about the blue sofa under the charcoal sketch.For both will be gone.The latter to a warehouse subjected to some exchange offer.Goodbye to you too.Perhaps you don’t know it but you held me through fears and fevers silently whispering-Don’t be stupid child, it doesn’t happen that way.
Forgive me for I never learnt the what the switches on the board corresponded to.Utterly illogicall they were.Little bit of mystery in an otherwise completely unmysterious house they were.Please do be the same.
I’m leaving.Off to house with plasma TV and Mercedes in the driveway.And you un-posh house didn’t even have a driveway.And I,silly creature, didn’t even care.
There is a reason why I’ve never told you the above .You would feel perfectly uncomfortable with such extreme oversentimentality,look sheepish and not know what to say.So I shall tear this up and part on the usual terms.
*A stiff hug*
Bhalo theko.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
in this rush to think out of the box ,I forgot to see whats inside.
8 comments:
I cry for my home atop a hill...and it cries for me.
Your relationship with the new place will probably be shrouded in mistrust;and you'll probably grow out of it. I hope.
Grow out of what?
are you serious about the plasma tv and the mercedes?
yes.but the mercedes isnt ours.of course.
Awkwardness and unsentimentality... isn't that how you'd react too, if you were in its place?
Damn you shalmi burman.
You see too much.
You'll get used to new house eventually. And forget about old house eventually (even if you don't want to). And then read this 10 years later and remember it all over again. And feel nostalgic.
Out of the mistrust.
Post a Comment