The word 'HOME' means a lot to a lot of people but what it essentially brings is the sense of belonging where you are allowed to shed all your inhibitions and just be yourself. for me the definition of home is confusing, i have stayed in three different houses is calcutta, two in hyderabad and two in chennai; in some cases people also differed. therefore, it is difficult for me to conjure up a mental image of my sense of belonging. but a month back i went to calcutta to the house where i spent most of my growing years. it was the same house where i got my first room. the house under the new owner was under going renovations and seeing it change broke my heart. i felt that all my childhood memories were being taken away by the new house and destroying the image of my childhood home.

it was my Tara (Gone with the wind - Scarlett's house) . the small gate leading to the porch and then the drawing room and the huge bedroom. next came the hall, the bathroom, kitchen and right at the end was my small room. the room had two windows; one overlooked the small green patch and the other the courtyard. my single bed hugging the wall faced the windows. the shutters of the windows never closed and the first thing when i got up in the morning i used to see the hibiscus tree with or without the flowers. i had a small cupboard and book case with big drawers underneath where i kept my school books and other unnecessary items and secrets that made up most of my childhood. those were wooden furnitures my grandfather's time which none of my folks had the courage to throw away. then there two trunks which belonged to my mother. she used those ancient trunks when she was in the hostel. what those trunks contained i never knew but on top of that were my school uniforms and a suitcase full of my good clothes. since i kept all my good clothes in the suitcase right next to the window, it got stolen one not so fine night. then right next to my bed was my study table and a stool. i remember whenever i got down to study my musical neighbour and his wife would start singing classical songs. i tried stopping them by throwing stones at their windows but it was very difficult to curb down their enthusiasm. as years went by their son also joined in the concert. then there was the rack attached to my wall which had all my grandfathers books, the priceless collection, the only thing that i had rightfully inherited from him. due to space constraints when those books were removed from my room, i had tears in my eyes. i liked taking care of them. lastly the posters that adorned the wall, the intentionally vague and rebellious ones drawn during my teenage years and the ones appreciated by my art teacher. i obviously wudnt forget the clothesline that ran across the room and from which hung my wet under garments. i used to forget taking them down and often they were the first ones to greet any guests who came unannounced to my room. the door of my room never used to shut properly and i used to position by study table in such a way that i get a direct view of the tv in the drawing room. this strategy obviously took a toll on my 10th results.

that room taught me the meaning to privacy, space and independence and i guess that was my home. the famous novel Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier started with the sentence "Last night I dreamt that I went back to Manderly again" - i always remembered this sentence and i dream of my Manderly when i am asked about my home.