The house in which I am growing old 2

This is my den. It is a tiny room. Tiny by choice as I never wanted it to become a space that could be shared. It was for my alone time. It is warm place, flooded with pictures of times gone, happy times that bring a smile on my face every time I look up from my computer. This is where I come every morning before the crack of dawn and spend time writing. This is also the HQ of my last battle. Many changes have occurred since the fateful day I discovered I had deal with an unwanted guest for some time at least. But this unwanted guest has been a strange stroke of serendipity as it has made me stop and look again at my life and the times gone by. Just this morning as I sat at my computer I realised that this little room did not exist in the house I shared with my parents. It was added when I remodelled the house on the gentle advice of a dear friend who realised that I was sinking into a morbid depression and turning my home into a mausoleum not wanting to move a single object. When I finally understood what she meant I went all out to make drastic changed: the room in which mama died and which was my room when I lived here before my wedding is now the kitchen and this little den was carved from the erstwhile drawing room.

Today is chemo day and though the three that are over were not bad, I always feel a little anxious on chemo morning. Part of what I call getting into chemo mode which often begins the evening before and ends two days after when I am convinced that the dreaded side effects will not appear. I always try to write something before we leave. This morning I allowed my memories to run free and wondered where they would lead me. They took me back several decades to this very spot that happened to be the place where mama had placed her main sofa on the day of my wedding and this is roughly where I sat in my bridal gear just before and after the ceremonies. God what a day. People would think you are over the moon but all I was thinking was when I could take out all the pins from my hair and all the jewels I never wore and stop looking like a Xmas tree. And then I had to keep smiling at all the people I did not know and then posing for pictures. There were no stages and thrones in those days. People sat beside you on the sofa or perched themselves on the arm of the sofa while the photographer clicked away. That was on October 20th 1974 when the whole house had been transformed in wedding mode. yes those days we got married in our homes, and the empty plot next door was where the dinner was held under a tent. Those where the days!

However when the house was in normal mode the place where I am sitting was where the TV set was. What memories that brings back. Papa sitting in his armchair, with his pipe and watching TV almost religiously and often alone as TV was so boring then barring 2 days: Wednesday with Chitrahaar that was half an hour of film songs and Sunday evening when a Hindi film was aired. Then the whole room was full as many people from neighbouring homes would come. That was sacrosanct time where even the phone, there were no mobiles at that time, was attended grudgingly and if visitors came then it was a disaster. How we cursed them! Dinner was on the table at 8.45 as the film was stopped for the news. By 9 we were back in our places glued to the box.

Today I sit alone in this spot that has seen so many things, witnessed good and bad times, hosted kings and paupers as that was the way we lived. It was a space filled with the silly giggles of a teenager and the tears of a woman. But somehow it was the happiest place you could imagine and the best ever to wage my last battle from.

I could go on and on and will when I have the time to take a walk down memory lane again.