A few months ago, I was sitting on one of the small stools in the kitchen, the ones that make you feel like a little child again, waiting for the water to boil. I was making tea for my dad and thought how cool a feeling that was, to be home again, doing home-things in a warm kitchen where everything was as familiar as it was leisurely. But later, in a different city, in a place just called home, a place that I have to remember by numbers - fourth right turn, third house on the left - a place I have to recognize by signboards and which I sometimes pass over in the dark because I miss the gate, a place where almost-strangers let you in when you ring the bell; I waited the same wait, standing and waiting for the water in a newer pateeli . It wasn't warm at all; it was just a cheerless, empty, disconsolate feeling. It made me feel low to even think of another place as home. Eating in alien plates, drinking in alien glasses. I never learnt to memorize the house number or the telephone n
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Wrong visual image! :P
You need the dark broody cliffs and the monstrous waves underneath to make this effective!
Pps: Where are you? Home?
PS: Yup, home. What're they making at your gate? The whole ground's broken up.
PPS: Where we went, there were no cliffs :(
They're making a swimming pool in my driveway! ;) hehhe nai they're making a water tank and its a pain in the neck cause our cars need to be parked at someone else's house and so on!
Also, bring paulian over sometime soon, he promised to come over and then fill out my book for me!! :P
okay?