THE RENOVATED GUESTHOUSE
(A tribute to THE home…)
I happened to see this video on my maternal grandparent’s home. The video had been taken soon after the death of my grandmother. It’s a huge house made of bricks, wood, iron and concrete. Any house transforms itself to a home truly because of the people who live there.
As the video camera captured every single spot in that huge house, it was time for me to come to terms with reality. I think it was also important for me to see where the house I struggled to walk with those tiny legs, at the age of 2 has changed many folds. Nothing against the current inhabitants but I would definitely blame the cruel game time plays with us. Time is destined to bring in change. That change had been cruel. As the video camera continued to move from one location to the other, I’m forced to sit back and think.
My grandparent’s home stands in the middle of an acre of land. It used to be surrounded by trees of all kinds. A couple of trees stood in a row in front of the house. You could see cows, their calves and buffalos tied strongly to each tree. As a child I would go slowly near one of the cows and then when the cow is about to turn I would run as fast as I can. My thatha (grandpa) who sits in the verandah reading his newspaper will look up and caution me to be careful. The fear for my protection and the care he had for me came with much force in his voice. I have to insist that the care and love was the same till the very end.
Grandpa used to sit in a big and comfortable cane chair in the central verandah of our home. He wore white dhoti and white cotton jipa (Similar to a shirt). He read the newspaper one after the other and was a very serious man by nature. Besides his chair their used to be smaller cane chairs around him which was for the visitors who frequented the place. That cane chair is gone and now stands a fish tank there. The central verandah hardly has any permanent chairs there. Maybe visitors aren’t encouraged! You never know, every action can build in umpteen different meanings. No sarcasm intended, I swear!
As you enter the house there is a huge living room. During grandpa’s days the living room had a small black and white television. Later he got a color TV. As the TV is switched on, you will see half the village children slowly walk into the house to watch Doordarshan. If grandpa is not in good mood he would slightly raise his voice and these children will run away. But if he is good tempered, the children get to see good old DD. There had been times when my sister, cousins and I used to sit in the comfortable sofas next to thatha and patiently wait for the DD screensaver to vanish! Then the DD music and so on…
Room after room it wasn’t the same. The age old kitchen had become a mini room. Grandpa’s room which was called office room earlier had become study room. The famous Janatha room where the women of the house had their tailoring machines and the girls had their dolls changed to a kitchen. The car shed is more or less an attic room. Rooms upstairs didn’t go through much change because it always belonged to the current inhabitants (The future heirs).
The home had a well and a cowshed. Time ensured that they vanish. I still remember the days when I used to throw banana peel for the cow. As child you would be scared to go near the cow and feed it. That was grandpa’s method of feeding the cows.
These can be rightfully called the ‘bygone days’. Gone are those days when grandma’s cook made food for the whole village and made variety of evening snacks for all. Food was available 24/ 7. Now the concept of 24/7 is applied only in multinational corporates.
As I follow the camera I could feel that the past had love in many forms. A grandma who touched your chin when you entered her home, a grandpa who always wanted to know If you had your food on time, aunts and uncles who gave you that sweet smile. I remembered the loud chattering and laughter that came from all the different rooms when you enter. That love and touch is lost or maybe reserved for the few.
Family feuds restrict many to enter that home now. But anyway even if you go, what do you get to see? Photographs of your dead grandparents remind you of all that has been lost in one flash. The ambience and the atmosphere scream at you that it’s not your home anymore. It reminds you that your childhood is now a memory and all the genuine love is lost when amachi and thatha finally rested.
As I was getting used to the cruel change, I realized that, the video was finally over. A friend of mine peeped in and looked at the video.
She said “Wow! That’s a beautiful guesthouse.”
I didn’t retort and didn’t even explain it to her that the house there was once a home to many. In fact for many years, as a child I used to think that the house was a palace and my grandpa was a rich king. I silently looked at her and I’m sure she noticed the tears in my eyes.
A legendary home which has seen nearly 5 generations is a temple. Any legendary temple loses its value the very minute, any connection to past is wiped out. Memories are there to be preserved. Complete renovation of any kind to legendary homes, disturb and hurt memories.
Oops… I think you noticed the INTENDED sarcasm?
(A tribute to THE home…)
I happened to see this video on my maternal grandparent’s home. The video had been taken soon after the death of my grandmother. It’s a huge house made of bricks, wood, iron and concrete. Any house transforms itself to a home truly because of the people who live there.
As the video camera captured every single spot in that huge house, it was time for me to come to terms with reality. I think it was also important for me to see where the house I struggled to walk with those tiny legs, at the age of 2 has changed many folds. Nothing against the current inhabitants but I would definitely blame the cruel game time plays with us. Time is destined to bring in change. That change had been cruel. As the video camera continued to move from one location to the other, I’m forced to sit back and think.
My grandparent’s home stands in the middle of an acre of land. It used to be surrounded by trees of all kinds. A couple of trees stood in a row in front of the house. You could see cows, their calves and buffalos tied strongly to each tree. As a child I would go slowly near one of the cows and then when the cow is about to turn I would run as fast as I can. My thatha (grandpa) who sits in the verandah reading his newspaper will look up and caution me to be careful. The fear for my protection and the care he had for me came with much force in his voice. I have to insist that the care and love was the same till the very end.
Grandpa used to sit in a big and comfortable cane chair in the central verandah of our home. He wore white dhoti and white cotton jipa (Similar to a shirt). He read the newspaper one after the other and was a very serious man by nature. Besides his chair their used to be smaller cane chairs around him which was for the visitors who frequented the place. That cane chair is gone and now stands a fish tank there. The central verandah hardly has any permanent chairs there. Maybe visitors aren’t encouraged! You never know, every action can build in umpteen different meanings. No sarcasm intended, I swear!
As you enter the house there is a huge living room. During grandpa’s days the living room had a small black and white television. Later he got a color TV. As the TV is switched on, you will see half the village children slowly walk into the house to watch Doordarshan. If grandpa is not in good mood he would slightly raise his voice and these children will run away. But if he is good tempered, the children get to see good old DD. There had been times when my sister, cousins and I used to sit in the comfortable sofas next to thatha and patiently wait for the DD screensaver to vanish! Then the DD music and so on…
Room after room it wasn’t the same. The age old kitchen had become a mini room. Grandpa’s room which was called office room earlier had become study room. The famous Janatha room where the women of the house had their tailoring machines and the girls had their dolls changed to a kitchen. The car shed is more or less an attic room. Rooms upstairs didn’t go through much change because it always belonged to the current inhabitants (The future heirs).
The home had a well and a cowshed. Time ensured that they vanish. I still remember the days when I used to throw banana peel for the cow. As child you would be scared to go near the cow and feed it. That was grandpa’s method of feeding the cows.
These can be rightfully called the ‘bygone days’. Gone are those days when grandma’s cook made food for the whole village and made variety of evening snacks for all. Food was available 24/ 7. Now the concept of 24/7 is applied only in multinational corporates.
As I follow the camera I could feel that the past had love in many forms. A grandma who touched your chin when you entered her home, a grandpa who always wanted to know If you had your food on time, aunts and uncles who gave you that sweet smile. I remembered the loud chattering and laughter that came from all the different rooms when you enter. That love and touch is lost or maybe reserved for the few.
Family feuds restrict many to enter that home now. But anyway even if you go, what do you get to see? Photographs of your dead grandparents remind you of all that has been lost in one flash. The ambience and the atmosphere scream at you that it’s not your home anymore. It reminds you that your childhood is now a memory and all the genuine love is lost when amachi and thatha finally rested.
As I was getting used to the cruel change, I realized that, the video was finally over. A friend of mine peeped in and looked at the video.
She said “Wow! That’s a beautiful guesthouse.”
I didn’t retort and didn’t even explain it to her that the house there was once a home to many. In fact for many years, as a child I used to think that the house was a palace and my grandpa was a rich king. I silently looked at her and I’m sure she noticed the tears in my eyes.
A legendary home which has seen nearly 5 generations is a temple. Any legendary temple loses its value the very minute, any connection to past is wiped out. Memories are there to be preserved. Complete renovation of any kind to legendary homes, disturb and hurt memories.
Oops… I think you noticed the INTENDED sarcasm?
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