Homey

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Today was quite peaceful. I had to wrap up some work in the morning, which I did. I had to sign some papers for work that would begin tomorrow but the non-disclosure clause was really restrictive. I cannot afford to sign these exclusive contracts with companies that also bar people from working with your competition for 2 years after concluding the contract. Well, they are paying well. But it is not going to wor out in the long run, given how quickly I start feeling suffocated about such things. Anyway, I told them that I possibly could not negotiate with them about this. The HR person was really sweet though. He said that he is trying his best to see how this goes. I had refused another offer for this contract and the HR person was aware of this. So he said what he could do. It'll all work itself out, am sure. 

Otherwise, I take the break I want for the rest of the year. 

Then I spoke with another friend. It was such a delight! She is in Pune now (having traveled from Bangalore) and I was so tempted to rush across and catch up with her. But she is a really careful sort and even at home, she is staying in her room. So I don't want to get reckless.

I had to send something to my landlord and I asked him if the new tenants could collect it from the gate or some such. He said that there were no new tenants. I couldn't explain the twinge I felt. I felt that the sweet little flat was waiting for me and I wanted to go back there again. It was a small flat but I really liked it. I just had a sleeping bag there, a kettle, an induction cooker and some vessels. (I fact it was so sparse that when my brother and dad had visited me once, my brother looked shocked and asked me if 'I had been robbed' and my dad had looked pained and said why I was putting myself through all this. I didn't know what they were talking about. I looked around I saw a fully functional, fully complete setup.) 

I had a lot of candles and I would often unwind with candles flickering at night and going for a long walk in the middle of the night around the apartment complex. The flats next to mine had small kids who would bang on my door and laugh and run away. The spot in the verandah in front of my house would get a spot of sun, which in Bangalore is like finding gold. Some ladies - mums of these kids - would ask me if they could dry their clothes in front of my house. I could see the courtyard from the verandah. I'd see kids being dragged to their school bus early in the morning. Or little kids play football with tennis rackets at tea time. I used to travel so much from Bangalore to Mumbai because mum was not well. And I had hoped that she would see my place. But well that didn't happen. But that home - it really was a home where something inside of me softened. 

Yes, I did have a life that involved high heels and dresses (at times). Late night cab rides and early morning walks at Cubbon Parks and hanging out at a friend's house in the same apartment complex. But this flat satiated me. I don't know how many people can relate to this - but I don't feel sated until I have had rice and daal. White rice and yellow daal. Even if I have eaten a fine continental meal outside, I will still come home and have white rice and yellow daal. This flat was that - the white rice and yellow daal in the midst of the buffet life I lived in Bangalore. 

I didn't get a chance to say goodbye. I was in Bombay during Covid and my friend arranged for movers and packers to wrap everything up. I had said my goodbye in my diary, though. A home, an home, is like a heart that allowed you stay wedged in it for a while. I don't care if it was 'rented' or if it was 'my own'. When a heart allows, it allows. There is deep honor in that.

Stay well, P-302. I send you my love. 


Comments

Atul Sharma said…
You write so well...as if everything is in front of my eyes...
8:20 AM
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