Home.

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Home? Can four walls encompassing few people be called a home? Is it important in defining us? How important is it in shaping us, making us who we are today?

I have been plagued by these questions for some time now.

My story started in Kolkata, capital of  West Bengal, a state in the north east part of India. West Bengal is not that hard to find. It has a rich history which is easily available on Google. I was born and brought up here. All my firsts, starting from learning to talk, learning to stand, learning to write, learning to understand the world and its people, every first started from here. This place, out of thousand other places became the reason for my existence.

How can a place, a place so small compared to the rest of the world, the rest of the universe become so important? The point of this post is to find an answer to that.

When I started thinking about this question, one recurring answer came to mind, my family. This place does have something that no other places in this world has, my family. It is the family that roots me to this place. My brother says "You never give up on your family." Indeed! What I have learnt is that when everything else ends, it is the family that stays. Family never leaves, never judges, never hate. It became the only static in my life.

I believe everything is built on a foundation. A tree will not survive the storm if it did not have strong, firm roots to hold it still. A building will not survive gravity unless it has those iron rods to give it foundation. A relationship will not mature if it did not have the foundation of love, mutual respect and trust. An artist can never dream and create if he does not have the foundation of his imagination. Foundation.

Family gives foundation. The courage to fight the world, to stand up for yourself, to chase your dreams, to learn to feel, to learn to love, to learn to trust, to learn to laugh, to learn to share pain. The basis for your existence becomes the family, the air to give flight to the wild creature buried deep inside your heart. It becomes the roots for one's tree of life to expand and branch out.

It is the family that makes a building made of bricks, a Home.

"I am not okay!"

I am not okay!

Even after all these years, even after shifting places I am chased by my insecurities and pain.

What I could never understand is how my life became like this, so disarray and jumbled. I was a good student in school, with dreams, big dreams that made me who I was. I was a dreamer, a person who in spite of falling down a thousand times, stood up and fixed it. Now... I just give up. I try, I actually try to stand up. But I guess I am just tired. I am tired of getting up each morning and not being the person I used to be, I am tired of being a coward and not pursue my own happiness, I am tired of dreaming things and not chasing after them, above all I am tired of fighting to make something out of each day.

I read this quote somewhere

 "I have this strange feeling that I'm not myself anymore. It's hard to put into words, but I guess it's like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling."

This quote feels like it was written for me. It hits right at home. Because no matter how much I try I cannot, any more be me. That girl, who was so optimistic, so full of life, so inspirational is lost.

The world took her.

I am plagued by how people time and again used me, how people ruthlessly left me, how I always have been a pain in the ass for my parents, how I have always let them down, how I keep letting myself .
My insides are like a burning furnace, with everything engulfing me.

I have no peace left in me. Anymore.

"Not an Ideal Daughter, Not an Ideal Sister, Not an Ideal Friend"

I am not an ideal daughter, not an ideal sister, not an ideal friend. I am a selfish bitch! PERIOD! I try beyond everything to fix this part of me, but in vain. It’s not that I don’t love my parents or my brother or my friends. I love each one of them, with every part of me!
The thing is that I have been hurt so many times in the past that I don’t have it in me to believe anyone any more again. Every time, every fucking time I dared to trust someone, that person broke my trust, abandoned me, treated me like I did not mean anything. Over the years, I buried all the hurt, the humiliation, the pain. When they over flew, I buried them again. Until the point, I could not do it anymore!

I want to love them, my parents, my brother, my friends. I tell myself “I will be okay! I am having a bad Baaaaad day! I have people who love me, treat me like I matter! I am going to be okay!” For a moment I actually believe I am going to be okay. Then in the next moment, all the ghosts from my past come back. They choke me, they suffocate me, until I feel like a prisoner in my own room.

That’s when I give up. That’s when I know that no matter how many times I try, things will never get back to what they were before. That’s when I start ignoring the people I love. That’s when I throw them away and treat them like they mean nothing to me. That’s when I push them away, far away from me, until they leave me in my place of hell, all alone!

What happens in the end...!?

Last Monday, I asked my mother “Hey mom, just before we die, what is the one thing that stays with us?”

Mom gave me a blank look and went back to her work, probably thinking I was having another of my regular philosophical musings. This was no slight wandering of my mind! This thought came to me Sunday night while I was on Facebook. I came across a picture, where I saw a man lying on his death bed with his entire family around him. There were also some beautiful lines written below it. I don’t exactly remember the lines but the thoughts revolved around

Who cares how many degrees we have! How much money we earn or how many palaces we build! In the end we all die alone, taking with us the memories of the relations that we have made throughout our life.

When all else fails, there's still family......

As a participant of this crazy human race, I too have certain high dreams and aspirations. I won’t say that in twenty years of grazing through life I have got whatever I wished for. If I sit down to think about the dreams I did not achieve then I will have no other option than breaking down. But when I actually look at the things I have, I feel full. I have a big awesome family, comprising of my total sweet heart father, totally chaotic mother, not too grown up brother, and a bunch of silly, never boring friends.

It’s true when they say, “We come to this world alone, We work alone, We live alone, We depart alone”. But wouldn’t this life be too boring, too colorless without these stupid stupid relationships?

Few days back, I was out of town for about three days. I was on the phone with my father, when he enquired “When are you getting back!? It’s been ages since I last saw you!” Then after returning, when I opened my Facebook wall, I see a post “Heyya sis, Call me” (this one was from my brother after about six hours of leaving home). And then you have your friends! I seriously have no idea what I would have done without them! They are always there. When you don’t want to talk, they have to talk, bug and irritate until you come out clean. When you want to talk, they are too bust with assignments, work to even do so. God! They drive me mad! Their never ending demands, their never ending parenting, the horrible fights, the gossips. God! Is there any moment when you guys are not there?

May be! Life is not about big things but about these small and big, significant and insignificant moments. Later when you sum them up, they grow into something gigantic, something much more precious, something much more powerful, something worth fighting for, they all grow into a one big “family”.