This short piece was originally written for a call-out by an American magazine, whom I have written for earlier. The topic given to each of us writers was ‘Home’ and we were restricted to 300 words. I wrote from my heart and even garnered appreciation from the editor. However, the piece they picked to publish was by another writer. I still wanted to share mine with the world, so here it is. I would love if you also took up the prompt and attempted to write your version on the same subject in 300 words – I would love to read your entries!
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HOME
By Noor Anand Chawla
Following Indian custom, I lived with my parents till I was 24. My first experience of living alone, and away from home, was when I moved to London to pursue a master’s degree at this age.
Learning to live independently in a new country at an age when most people have already found firm footing in life was tough. I faced many mishaps, including a miscalculated cooking experiment leading to the fire alarm going off, being robbed of my phone and wallet in the tube, and lobbed with a massive phone bill when the thief used the phone to make overseas calls! Each of these incidents led to hysterical phone calls to my parents, often in the middle of the night. Yet I wasn’t aware of my acute homesickness.
That happened when I returned to Delhi. The feeling of being “home” wasn’t characterised by entering the brick-and-mortar building I had lived in most of my life. Instead, I felt it in my father’s reassuring presence at the airport at 5 a.m. after a long and arduous flight through Moscow; in the fresh, steaming serving of my mother’s delicious Rajma-Chawal early in the morning; and in the 19-hour-long dreamless and carefree nap I sank into after demolishing the aforesaid meal and hugging my parents repeatedly.
I had not been to war, nor had I battled an illness or faced any major struggle, yet that bright and early morning in Delhi, I felt like I had summited a tough peak and could finally celebrate. Safely ensconced in my parents’ love, I realised that home is a feeling of being cared for. It’s a privilege and blessing that isn’t bestowed on everyone. Now, as I navigate life as a wife and mother, I often fall back on the memory of that feeling, of that blessing.
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This blog post is part of the blog challenge ‘Blogaberry Dazzle’ hosted by Cindy D’Silva and Noor Anand Chawla in collaboration with Bohemian Bibliophile.
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*This is not a sponsored post.
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