Walk to my home

We travel a lot of places, we do a lot of things, but at the end of the day, our body demands to go back home. Now what home is may vary with people. A home is not literally a shelter, but a place or a person you feel that you belong to; that is your home sweet home!

Reading those lines, I kept walking forward. “How can I belong to something? Isn’t it Psychological?” I laughed and threw the piece of paper away. It came to me in a cookie. “Humans are sentimental fools” I laughed. It occurred to me that I always assume that I’m not human.

I don’t know how it happens, but most of the time I feel like an observer of this world and not really one of them. And I think everyone feels that way, but I don’t know. I get too carried away sometimes, and I just feel like I’m observing, writing notes and learning what a human is. 

When it comes to me; when I suddenly look into the reflections of mine, I remember that I’m one of those idiots I laugh at. There might be some idiot who is laughing at me right now. And for that dimwit, I’m an idiot. Are humans innately narcissistic? Or is it just me reflecting myself upon the world?

My home sweet home?

I reached my building and I opened the gate. I could see the baker’s family packing their bags, all tired and fed-up. “Need help?” I yelled. I don’t know why I did, it was spontaneous but I did however. “Nah, it is almost done” Premji answered. He is a funny little guy. I have different names for people in my mind, and I name them with a physical attribute they got.

I can never say that out loud, because it might appear to be an insult. Maybe I will be looked upon as an objectifying shit. But, physical attributes, as it is, without any adjectives are not insults according to me. “A fat man” is not an insult for me. “An ugly fat man” is definitely an insult. I’m a logical person.

“Don’t you feel sad?” A voice called me from the lost world of thoughts. I realised that I have been staring into Premji’s wife’s face all the time while thinking about names and fat men. “Because you are leaving?” I asked. That was dumb, but that was I thought, so it’s ok.

“No, because you are selling your house” she said in a painful tone. “I haven’t quite thought of it. I guess I am not sad. I’m neutral” I said. But I didn’t mean what I said. In fact, I have never really thought about it that way. My house? Does it belong to me? I am its owner. It’s my home sweet home!

I continued to walk smiling and while climbing the stairs there was a scent that felt new. Well, I understood that I have been sniffing this scent all the time but it was this time that I realised that it was different from the outside. I walked to my room upstairs, on the first floor. I unlocked and got in. The smell grew dense and it filled my nostrils.

The smell of my home

This is the smell of my house! This is its scent. Maybe it’s the naphthalene balls, I thought and went back to bed. I just bumped on the bed, like gravity pulled me down. Back to names, I went. I would recognize Mr. Premji as Mr. Five By Five. He is five feet tall and seemingly wide. He reminds me of the song, Mr. Five by Five.

And this urge came to me to listen to that song. But I was too lazy to reach my phone that I left on the table in the living room. My drive to listen to the song wasn’t strong enough to motivate me from getting up. I kept lying there, looking at the edge of the pillow.

An Ecosystem?

I noticed a small spider walking around the edge of the pillow. It is inches away from the tip of my nose and I guess it noticed this giant creature and is trying to run away. I blew air, like a sadist and saw the spider fall far away on the floor. And it struck me that my home is actually an ecosystem.

The baker, me, five other humans who live above, not only them, there are lizards, rats, roaches and spiders that live with me. I have inherited not just a building but an entire ecosystem, I thought. And I couldn’t shake this thought away. I don’t know why, but there was an urge to shout “ecosystem”. And like every other human, I am in control of my emotions too.

I shouted “ecosystem”, and I laughed. Then I took a deep breath. I noticed the scent again. This is my ecosystem too. This smell, the old radio, loose-hinged bed, half-rusty windows, paint flaky ceiling, and every corner about this house, they belong to me. NO, I belong to them.

My belonging is to every corner of this house, and couldn’t shake this feeling and to away with it I got up. I should have a coffee, I thought and rushed to the kitchen; my senses are all awake now. I saw myself and my memories everywhere around this place. It is indeed my home sweet home. 

Memories in my home

I heated and poured some coffee and instinctively sat on the kitchen counter. I imagined my mother preparing food while I chatted to her while drinking coffee. And I imagine my sister yelling my name in an annoyed tone from the living room and my father entering the house after his work. 

My senses. Smell, touch, objects that I see, sounds, and the taste of this coffee, they took me back in time. And after almost two decades, I realised this was my home; my ecosystem. That I belong here and it owns me. I understood why I never thought I belonged in the city. Because my ass always belongs here.

Now it might be dumb, it might just be a psychological construct, but I realised like any other human, even I was a mere human and I am already trapped in the sentiment of belonging. I don’t know how it happened, but there was an urge. And I realised that they are going to demolish the house in a week. Practically, I wouldn’t be able to capture the entire house in my memories.

Memories aren’t reliable and I want to capture every corner and every inch of this house. The drive was strong. So strong that I couldn’t resist. I rushed outside with my phone, I began clicking pictures. But it was not enough. Photos were not reliable too. I began recording the video of my entire house like an idiot.

I didn’t want to leave any corner un-recorded. The edge where I hit my head as a kid, the corner where I hid while playing hide and seek, I was not leaving anything go un-captured. I don’t know how it happened, but in the process of recording this ecosystem of mine, tears rolled down my eyes. 

Reliving, capturing the last moments

I rushed downstairs, I wanted to capture the garden and the backyard. And I kept on recording and the tears rolled down, I kept wiping them. I’m selling the house, with it, I can’t survive, I can’t maintain it. Without it, I guess I’m homeless. Maybe I will be somewhere, plant my ass on a bed in some corner. But I won’t belong there.

Not as much as I belong here. This is my home sweet home, this is where I belong. I couldn’t control my tears anymore, I burst out falling on my knees in the garden. I don’t know what stuck me. But this smell, this sight, this touch of the mud, the taste of the coffee at the end of my tongue, I can not have these at one time again. 

My home, sweet home

There would be a new smell, a new sight and a new ecosystem which won’t be mine till I finally delude myself and divert in the uncontrolled chaos of my life. But as a matter of fact; as a logical and quite evident observation, I can say with authority that this is my home!

A person’s sound of walking made me come back to this world again and I turned towards it. It was Mrs.Premji looking at me with sympathy in her eyes. “I understand, Krishna. It’s your home after all” she spoke softly. I nodded at her while I now finally understand what I’m doing, that I’m selling the place where I always belonged to. And I’m indeed sad or not happy at least.

It is the early 1900’s in Paris, the city of love. It was the spring season when the city of love has a natural romantic ambience. I was painting a beautiful canvas behind a lovely water fountain.

Every time the breeze flows by the water and touches my face, I feel alive. That day the breeze not only had the freshness but an awesome scent.

The scent that comes when all the angels beat their wings. That scent has love written all over it. I followed that scent to see what jewel is now added to the crown of the city.

I walk for some distance and there it is! And saw the most beautiful thing in the world! That was the day I saw the queen of angels walking in the city of love.

It was like the sunlight falling on a dew-kissed flower. That innocent smile, that curious eyes, with the walk of a swan in the river. The artist in me has become a poet of solace.

I have a habit of writing to express when I’m feeling low, this angel changed it for me. She got down the horse cart and the city of love was jealous of the celestial beauty of her.

The curious eyes of her were looking to find something. I couldn’t watch her stressing her eyes, I couldn’t take it. I gathered enough courage and started walking towards her.

Every step of mine towards her made my heart pound harder. That is the longest 20 steps I ever took. Finally, I got the courage to go near her, so that I can talk to her.

I went to her and she saw me and that’s it! Before I could speak, my eyes have already spoken a thousand words. I didn’t know I had a world-famous poet in me until I saw her.

I looked into her eyes and spoke my first words with her “Bonjour Madame! You don’t like you are from the neighbourhood. Where are you from?”

She turned towards me to answer. That turn is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen! The way her hair waved in the air and the way she looked at me, wow! It looked like her hair is feeding love into the air of Paris!

She looked at me and started speaking, “Bonjour Monsieur! I’m new here. I’m renting a house in this neighbourhood. Are you from this area? How are the people around here?”

I cannot believe that an angel is talking to me! Her voice is the most soothing thing I have ever heard! It is like a beautiful singer singing and everlasting melody! I startled for a bit, came back to reality and started speaking.

“Yes, madame! I’m from here. This is the heart of love Paris! The people are lovely here. Right around that corner is where I live. May I help you with your belongings? They seem a bit heavy.”

She looks at me and smiles! Oh boy! It was a ray of beautiful sunshine on my face! She nods in agreement and I pick up the things and help her take them into the house.

After a few hours, all the things were moved to the house and she sighed me to sit on a chair. She went in and got some tea and gave it to me. I kept my sketching kit aside and started sipping it.

She saw the kit and asked, “What is that?” “This is my sketching kit madame, I draw potraits right around the water fountain.” “We have a water fountain nearby?!” She asked with joy.

That childlike innocence and those curious eyes that screamed joy! Man, she is the perfect women I have ever met. To continue the conversation I asked, ” Madame, if you don’t mind may I know your name?”

She smiled and said, “My name is Charlotte Monsieur, what is your name?” I smiled, that was the most genuine smile I had after a long time and said ” My name is Marlon Madame.”

I thanked her for the tea and left to home. That was the most beautiful day of my life. I couldn’t sleep the whole night thinking about the most exciting thing that happened to me.

The next day, I rushed to the fountain waiting for the angel to flap the wings on the fountain. After a few hours, my aha! moment came. The angel herself saw me and started walking towards me with a smile.

She came to me and asked “Salut Marlon, do you do your sketching here?” “Salut Charlotte, yes this is my place of sketching, do you want to see some samples of my work?” I asked.

“Of course, I would love to see them,” she said with innocent and excited eyes. I have shown her some samples and I enjoyed showing them more than her seeing them. It was remarkable.

She looked at me and took something from the pocket. She places it in front of me and says “Marlon, can you draw this?” It was a wooden cuckoo bird. I said “Yes” and start drawing it.

After an hour I show it to her, and the moment she saw it and said “Beaaaautiful!” That is the best compliment I have ever got! The way she said felt like the best thing that has ever happened to me.

She looked at my bag and there are a book and a pen, she took the book and asked me “Marlon, do you write as well?” I stumbled a bit and said ” Ye.. Yes, I write when I’m depressed or not feeling good Charlotte.”

She read a page, looked at me and left, I felt a bit broken and went home with sadness. It felt very bad seeing her leave. I thought I might not see her ever again and it was the worst!

The next morning I was at the fountain sketching and suddenly I see Charlotte coming towards me. It is an extraordinary feeling seeing her come towards me.

She came to me and gave me another object to draw and I did the same. She took the sketch gave me a look with a smile and left. This went on for a week and she took sketches daily.

One day she bought a wooden box to sketch, while I was drawing she started speaking to me ” So Marlon, you said when you are sad you write, I’m I right?”

“Ye..Yes, that is what I said Charlotte” I mumbled. She smiled and said, “well you are sketching for 7 days, have you ever felt sad within this period?” I was blown away by the way she thought for me.

“No I was just curious and a bit said that you were not talking,” I said. She smiled and said “That is what I wanted you to do, not to feel sad but be curious and forget being sad. I don’t like when you are sad.”

These were the best words I had ever heard! This continued for three months and she bought numerous amounts of objects to sketch. I asked many times that I want to sketch her, but she always said it was for a special moment.

After three months, she came to me and said “Marlon, today is a special day. Why don’t you come to my house in the evening and I will share the special moment with you?”

I felt like a kid who got the sweetest candy! I was waiting for the evening very badly. As the time drew itself to the evening, the excitement in a way broke the last boundaries and just went ga-ga!.

Finally, the time has come and I rushed to Charlotte’s house. I knocked on the door and she invited me in. The house was lit with all the beautiful candles and the ambience was fantastic.

She sighed me to sit down and she went in. From her kitchen, she said, “Marlon, close your eyes, I have a big surprise for you!” I closed my eyes and my excitement was like a kid waiting for his Christmas present.

After some time, she said, “Now open them!” I did and oh boy was I surprised! Some other man was sitting beside her on the couch opposite. I was rather puzzled thinking who is this.

She said, “Marlon, I would like you to meet Achille, who is my fiancee now.” I felt like my heart left my body when I heard the word fiancee. I mean what can I say.

She continued, “Marlon, I have another surprise as well. Remember I took your books to read? Achille is a publisher and I was able to print one of your books!

I didn’t have any life left after the fiancee word. After some time, I tried to gather myself and had a fake smile. I just looked around so that I don’t see into the eyes of Charlotte.

I was afraid my eyes could speak and give out feelings in the form of tears. When I looked around I saw a paper and the sketching kit. Charlotte looked at me and smiled.

She said, “Well this is a special moment, do you want to sketch us?” I held myself and after some time I said, ” sure, why not.” I set up the paper and started sketching them.

A teardrop fell from my cheek onto the paper. Only paper, pencil and my heart know that mark. I sketched it, put it in her hand and looked at her and said, “Thank you.”

I was about to leave, Charlotte caught my hand and stopped me and I was shocked to see what was happening. She looked straight into my eyes and said.

“Marlon, I have a piece of bad news to tell as well. I’m leaving the city for Rome. As you know, I’m an author, I keep travelling country to country. I’m so sorry, but I’m leaving.”

I was horrified to hear that. Not only she doesn’t love me back, but she is also leaving my sight forever. I gathered myself up and said, “Whee. when are you leaving?”

“In three days Marlon, but I must say I will miss you so much. I will make sure to write a postcard regularly. Please write back to me too. And if everything goes well, we will surely meet one day.”

That is the end of my happiness. The streets of Paris are not lovable anymore. It all feels gloomy and unorganised. Nothing makes sense anymore and I feel like I’m in oblivion.

As my book is published, I got more deals and kept writing. The more I write the more depressed I’m. I earned a lot of money. I became a very successful writer.

The more depressed I become the more I wrote. Now, who will get me objects to sketch? Who will divert me from my mood? Who will talk to me and care for me?

The love may be in the air of Paris, but I don’t want to feel it.

In the imaginary race with time, I barely think about what is happening to me. If I stress I even don’t know what I’m feeling. But there some sort of disturbance or sadness that is always pumping from the bottom of my heart.

I work at a graveyard shift for a private company. My job is to take client tickets and resolve them. There will be calls of clients as well, I need to greet them with a smile and assist them accordingly. Yeah, it sucks to the bottom, but what sucks more is the way I get treated.

The clients don’t have respect for us as humans what so ever. We get to hear all kinds of cusses. I got to know them in different languages too. It is like I got used to them, I don’t like it, but that is what it is.

If the work is like this, one would expect the management would be supportive. That ship sank to the bottom way back and its the worst. The stuff they do to keep us “Productive” is bizarre.

They do a video call in the middle of the shift just to check if we are smiling while talking to clients. They are planning to plant mirrors so that we can set our looks and smile while talking.

I don’t know how to express this. They are trying to cut our genuine emotions and programming us to smile. They are trying to make us into robots from top to bottom. It feels very difficult even to breathe and survive.

It feels like a bottomless pit and I keep on falling. Personal life is no paradise either. It feels like “so-called” family members treat me like some random object that we ignore. No one asks If I smiled or had a good day or anything.

But if I talk about passion or something, they pile on me and bring me down to the ground. I also want to talk to my mother in a normal way. I also want to share information with my father like a normal child. But they seem like far fetched dreams.

Few of my friends stopped talking to me because of my bottom states. I get emotional when a huge pile of problems fall on me. Let’s face it, no one likes a whiny person right? I’m shocked and privileged I still have few people and friends that listen to me.

My phone goes empty all day. I sit alone in my room working or doing something. Some of my friends used to call me regularly the day would be way better. Now no one talks and suddenly I need to take these calls and it feels all fuzzy and weird. It’s fine everyone has their own lives and priorities.

Every time I hear that ring on the call, my heart skips a bit. Some unknown fear and pain run to the bottom of my spine and in my heart. what cusses would I need to hear today? Who will yell at me? How much I’m I going to feel sad today?

I get panicked and get very scared. It feels like someone is groping me and I sit there and allow it to happen. It hurts a lot inside and I don’t know how to express it. I’m lost for words and in a lot of pain that I cannot handle.

Why I’m I saying all this? So-called people and society say we need to work hard and we will be good. If people call this good, then I never want to be good in life. This sucks to the core, it is a huge pile of shit, where I survive daily on my tears.

You kill all of our curiosity we have as a child and try to rub your hypothetical success goals on us. Why should someone do a job and laugh and be fake and do a naked dance in this bottomless hole?Why cannot a person be the way he wants to live?

If we question all this we are being rude and don’t know anything in life. If doing what we love is rude and smiling is ignorance about life, then fine I’m happy to be ignorantly rude. But we can’t right, all kinds of crap come up if we open and talk.

The bottom line is I prefer if I don’t exist. I’m running an imaginary race that I never signed up for. I don’t know for how long but the longer I keep running to the bottom I keep sinking.

Note: This is from our beloved friends John’s diary.

Skip to toolbar