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9 Apr 2014

H - Home




I’m particularly feeling homesick these days probably because I’m falling sick too often, way too often. And I don’t know which one of these is probable cause but every time I close my eyes I can smell the familiar smells of…. home.
Like the mustiness of my clothes cupboard that my sister has taken over. Like the earthiness of garden soil with the flowering plants that Grandma loves more than us. Like the crunchy oiliness of the dosa and the milkiness of the tea that Mariamma akka (the house help who is more like family) makes for us for breakfast. Like the boy smell of my brother’s room. Like the slight rust and metal smell of the motor room. Like the all-pervading dog/zoo smell that comes with having five dogs that I miss every day. Like the warm cat smells of those little rascals who insist on sitting and preening on my pillows (the six cats are now everywhere and I miss tripping over them). Like the book-y smell of Grandpa’s room where I sometimes go and wish I could smell him, his Ayurveda oil and cologne and scruffy cheek and match dissection and his reprimands. Like wisdom and experience that comes with having lived an era. Like planes that he worked with and the stories he told. Like the love he cocooned me in, his kuttammi. Like the sister’s deodorant that I really, really hate. Like the sister that I really, really love. Like unwashed clothes and tones of my books in the brother’s room. Like my brother, all six feet of uncuddlable, awkward teenager-y him that I love catching into a bear hug mostly out of love and sometimes out of love for embarrassing him. Like Mom’s favorite body lotion & cream. Like Mom’s favorite perfume. Like Mom’s tea that I actually don’t like but never have gotten around to telling her. Like Mom’s hugs on the mornings I reach home for the weekend. Like Mom’s hugs in the evenings when I leave for Bangalore.
Sigh.
I really miss home.
Really. Really. 
I feel like sharing. Here are some old photos.
 
Little Rascal No: 1

Little Rascals No: 2 & 3. RARE photo of this species.

Little Rascal No: 4

Me+Mom=Peekaboo-ing Session

Little Rascal No: 5

OLD picture: Grandpa in his plane. No handsomer gentleman, I must say.