I read a book once about a man, Mr. Biswa, who was trying to build a home for himself. The book went on and on about his desire to have this, even if small, rickety, dangerous, space for himself and his family. It talked at painful length, in minute detail about his attempts to find/build this house. I think about that book often. I feel like Mr. Biswa.
6 months ago, at the end of my Goa trip I came frighteningly close to living in a house I had imagined for my future. It was a small, cozy place, with big canopied balconies, lamps, and an L-shaped sofa. I was newly broken up then and in the coziness of the house, my mind kept taking me to a future I had envisioned for myself in the past.
I remembered visiting the home of a newlywed couple; their dining table had only 2 chairs, they pulled one out for me that didn’t match, only 2 coasters on the table, fridge magnets from travel, a picture frame that may have been a wedding present, big and small lamps. Many many lamps. A low-sitting sofa because in their excitement, they forgot to anticipate having older people over. In this house in Goa, I kept running in my head over the small kitchen counter thinking how beautiful it would be to cook breakfast for someone while talking about the new episode of Bojack or the dark turn my novel took last night. I brooded over the L turn of the sofa with no lap to lay my head on.
Recently, I visited a work friend’s house to finish some work. The house was so beautiful it took my breath away. In a corner, she had framed photos of her grandmothers and had a whole cupboard beaming with colorful trinkets, one of which she won during an ice-breaking activity. On a table, a pair of earrings too big to be worn, under it a set of cherry blossom-shaped post-its too pretty to be used. In the center of her kitchen was a platform perfect for eating pasta, drinking wine while watching the new episode of Bojack, or calling someone after a crappy turn her novel took. She had a big bulletin board of memories, her fridge had travel magnets and she had the most comfortable sofa, a soft rug, and a low heighted table for people who want to sit on the floor. People underestimate how many people like to sit on the floor.
My future mental home got upgraded recently. I may have seen more like these before, but none stuck. Maybe because I wasn’t ready to look at it the way I am now, as a whole human existing on an L-shaped sofa, eating takeaway while listening to audiobooks about world war 2, drinking good coffee I got from Munnar.
