Home…….

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What is a home? Where is a home?……

I was just scrolling through facebook, mindlessly. That is when I came across a very nostalgic video. It just broke the dam that was holding my emotional tears safely.

Ghar yaad aata hai mujhey…..

I miss home. That’s what it is supposed to mean. The first thing that flashed in front of my eyes, was my parental homes of Saudi. To me those homes are the closest meaning to home. We lived in different apartments. We changed a total of 5 houses. Each have their own nostalgic memories. Out of them one had my whole childhood.

Kehta hai roz mann mujhey…

Ghar yaad aata hai mujhey….

I miss that house the most. To me that was the most memorable home of my whole life. I went to school from that house. I learnt to read, write, use a computer, cycle, skate (yes I cycled and skated in KSA right through my teenage), rode buggies, jumped in the mud pools at school, made sand castles by the beach, flew kites at cornich, collected sea shells and hail stones, ran through the rain, enjoyed swinging away into the nights, counted the stars by lying on a mat….and so many more memories that I cannot even count.

Woh garmiyo ki raat…

Woh jaadey ki baat….

I miss those full blast a/c mornings. So comfy in the bed. Heck, me and bro sat playing Need For Speed on chairs wearing our blankets like huge coats.

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The winters? The cold washroom seats…the orange heater light that never flickered. I used to wear a grey sweater, then my dad’s blue jacket that had a brown fur lining inside. I sat infront of the white rotating heater.

I miss those car rides. Those long family drives along the coast with the windows scrolled down, the wind blowing in, ruffling the fabric of my niqaab. And the drives with just me and dad, simple peaceful trips to the clinic or to the exam halls or for those accounts classes.

Sabh sataata hai mujhey…

Ghar yaad aata hai mujhey….

I gave it up. Me. I gave it up. In the name of Love. I gave up everything. Left behind everyone I loved and who I knew would love me back and be there always.

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Chaah kar bhi waqt wapis mod nahi saktey.

Chah kar bhi waha nahi jaa saktey.

Chah kar bhi woh yaadein phirsei nahi jeesaktey.

Chah kar bhi laut nahi saktey waha….

I miss my brown blanket with white dots and brown flowers, and DIANA written in white on one corner.

Jin dino mei raha…

barso tak….

ek hissa unmei mera bhi tha….

phir waha rehna hai mujhey…..

ghar yaad aata hai mujhey…..

Even though I want to, I can’t turn back time. Can’t go back to that age, to that place, to those people, to my people. Home.

But according to the place I come from, a girl’s home isn’t her parents home. Her home is where she is married of to. Really? Wrong people. Wrong. There is no home in this world at all. Atleast that’s what I think.

What is a home? A place where you come to find peace and belonging…apnaapan. Maybe I can never find this feeling ever. I left my parental house to find my home in LOVE. I found a house. With people in it. But I didn’t find home….No I didn’t. I didn’t find a home.

Home was not with my parents. It is not in my spouse. It is not even in my kids. Where is my home?

Maulaaaaa…….

Mujhko bata mera dar hai kaha maula…

Jogi bada mei…phirta rawa kinna…

I am so well aware, that peace, love or belonging is never found in a person or place. It is found in the self. Maybe some day I may look at this blog post and laugh. Or maybe would nod my head and continue to cry. Maybe, just maybe I want to find a place called home. Because I learnt home can’t be a person. No not at all. It has to be a place.

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Bhatkna padega..

Pata nahi kabh thak…

Tabh thak ghar dhoondna hai..

Aur jabh thak…

Ghar yaad aata hai mujhey……

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Pw9v5XnMsg  : Link to the video I came across on facebook)

Note: Non-italic lines are my own.

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