It has been a year of finding that feeling of home. When the vines grew taller than the walls and poison spewed into everything I knew....
INTROSPECTION
It has been a year of finding that feeling of home. When the vines grew taller than the walls and poison spewed into everything I knew. All the beliefs were challenged and strained beyond limits. As the words bled and the papers burnt, the heart felt itself caged. A raging war occurred outside and within the body. A body that was a safe haven for truth and integrity. But the truths were painted in lies and deceit and the naysayers kept testing my patience and resilience. Trying to find ways to bring me down. I, being on the verge of being swallowed in the whirlwind of problems that weren’t mine, but were handed over to me because my position was compromised. I was not the person I thought I could’ve been. I had lived up till now as a shadow of the person I was destined to be. And they saw that. They saw my potential and took it as a threat. This looming belief that I was about to own … this sense of self and satisfaction that I was about to embrace was going to free me of their standards of success and wellbeing. So, when they thought I was left alone in the wild, prying over my insecurities I was finding my own sense of home in places where it never once existed.
I found home in that lonesome cup of tea, steaming away in an empty room on a quiet winter evening. It clouded over like a familiar conversation. One that translated all inhibitions, fears, apprehensions and endurance. All human emotions that once were replaced by silences in mid sentences and were rather not said were now so eloquently placed in this time frame. A small niche where time stood still and that once intoxicating whimsy of rising antidotes was again emulsified in conversations by soulmates. People, who knew exactly what to say to put your heart at peace and your mind to rest. Ones who carried your lost thoughts home. Those who knew what it was like to own an evening and give it a name. A place and by virtue of its being a tangible existence. A place walled by secure feelings and thoughts.
A place called home.
In the arms of familiar friends and family - where all needs are met and no shortcoming is used against you. One that feels the same every time you touch it, feel it, taste it. It gives the same feeling as it did for so many years of your life. But this sense of being it no longer kept in between pages or hidden in addresses listed to people you once knew. It becomes a state you can return to, each time you remind yourself of those little pieces of home scattered all around you.
They are in the people who know you and love you despite your flaws. They are in the laugh of innocent childhood. In a home cooked meal made with love. In people who carefully take out their time to talk to you. In those tiny gestures that are meant to feel like a huge favour and are returned in even more magnanimous ways. In people who trust you. With their time, their secrets, their discomfort and hope they find within you a home, too.
