It’s difficult to let go of the past. It has been two years since I left home. And yet, now that I know my parents are shifting to another house, to another city, it hurts. I have spent almost 12 years of my life in that house in Calcutta. I have grown up there, from a moody teenager to a moody grown-up.
Last night, I woke up suddenly in the middle of the night. I had been dreaming of our house in Calcutta. I had seen myself sleeping in my own bed, with my dogs at my feet, and Mamma trying to wake me up. As she shook me, I woke up with a start. Back into reality. Disoriented at first, my surroundings looked unfamiliar. It was only after a while that I realized that I had been dreaming.
It had been raining heavily all evening. It had stopped raining when I woke up from my dream. Everything was quiet. The steady chirping of the crickets somehow added to the silence of the night. A leaky faucet in the bathroom, water dripped in a ceaseless rhythm. I covered my ears, trying to cut away the sound. But the silence was deafening. I got up from the warmth of my bed to shut the tap. Wide awake now, I found my way back to the bed, which had already turned cold. I looked at the time. 3: 17 a.m. I tried to sleep, but I couldn’t. Images from my dream kept bothering me. Twelve years! So many firsts in that house!
Our first dog.
My own room
My first heart-to-heart talk with Mamma
My first short-story published
My first-hand experience of death of a grand-parent
Relatives intruding constantly in our lives
My first fight with Papa
My first job
My teenage-tantrum fights with my parents
My first drink
My first crush
My first boy-friend
First day in college
My first late-night, tip-toeing home at 4 a.m., trying not to wake up my parents.
My first intense love, for our second dog; my baby!
My first-hand experience with birth, assisting my baby when she had pups.
Fights with my brother
My first heart-to-heart talk with my brother
The realization that not everything is as it seems to be
Hours spent playing scrabble with Mamma
The morning tea/coffee with Papa
Going for long-drives and picnics with the whole family, dogs included
My friends
Getting admission in the post-graduate course in a reputed institute.
Knowing that I will have to leave Calcutta
Knowing that I can go back every semester break
And now, I know that there is no going back. How can I let go of so much? The good times and the bad times.
And then it hit me. I will never ever go back there, to that house in Calcutta. And then I cried, with my face buried in my pillow. I cried for all that I had, and for all that I will never have again. I cried because I know that I have to finally move on. There is no ‘home in Calcutta’ to run away to, every time the escapist in me needs to get away. I cried for my brother who will now be in Calcutta, living in another house, another life. I cried for my parents, for they will never have their children with them, the way it was in that house in Calcutta. And I cried till I drifted into a dreamless sleep.