In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Our House.”

DAILY PROMPT

Our House

What are the earliest memories of the place you lived in as a child? Describe your house. What did it look like? How did it smell? What did it sound like? Was it quiet like a library, or full of the noise of life? Tell us all about it, in as much detail as you can recall.

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My childhood memories of my home, my colony, my childhood friends never fails to bring a smile on my face.

My home was a well constructed house with 3 portions of Bedroom-Hall-Kitchen. It had a medium sized gate with metallic frame which served as a swing with 1 foot on the edge, when I was a kid. Among my colony friends, everyone would want to experience this little-adventure(back then) of swinging on the gate from one extreme to the other with friends applauding after the journey ends with the next friend in queue to follow the same – Such small activities did bring a lot of happiness.

There was a small compound(partition) between my house and the neighboring house, I would often jump across this to join the group of friends immediately after returning from school after throwing my school bag at the door step – It was fun , those carefree days might never return in adulthood.

The Lady who was our immediate neighbor whom we called Maami, was known for the tasty modaks ( special dish for Ganesh god) she prepared. She would prepare this delicacy every fortnight and distribute them to families residing in the colony. I would eagerly wait for the modaks , in case she missed sending the modaks to my mother, I would run to her house and ask her – how could she forget to give modaks , even though I was not much acquainted with her – The innocence in me is surely lost while growing up. Im reminded of this instance whenever I see any kid asking me a snack in similar situation.

There is a big terrace where I would study during exams and watch the sun rise in the early hours. The cool breeze at night made me fall asleep on fathers lap watching the stars while father and mother would be discussing some household stuff. I would be back in my bed the next morning.

After returning from school, I would not enter the house through front door, instead I would silently sneak to a place where I would peep in the window outside kitchen ,my mother would be cooking at that time and give a surprise to her with loud ‘Amma!!’

There was a small window near the main door, whenever I would turn cranky, my father would tell a story of a huge guy with mustache had visited our house last night and peeped through the small window asking where is the kid(myself). The man was very furious, my father had sent him back telling I had been a good kid with no tantrums. My parents had told me that the mustache-man will peep through that window and take me if I throw tantrums. I had truly believed this story for years. My parents were smart enough to handle all the cross- questioning I did to prove there was no such man 🙂

There is a long passage between the last portion of my house to the main gate/entry. This passage even though looks like a short distance now seemed no less than a half a marathon distance when was a small kid. Everyday around 8.30 PM, my father would return from his office shuttling between states. The moment I  would hear the noise of the latch of the main gate opening, I would run from the main door to the gate gleefully towards my father and put my arms around his knees (I could only reach till his knees) – This memory of mine is the favorite one among all the above ones .

Memories are a way of holding on to things that we never want to lose. The memories of childhood, our house , our friends surely takes a special place in the hearts of many.

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