Wednesday, June 19, 2024

Our Home

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Our Home

Yes you are right, this is our home. Our parents and our dream house. Are you wondering where the beautifully decorated flower garden of our house is? How did our beautiful house become different? Hear the story? Listen, my father was a very kind man. He had great love for flowers and flower gardens. Because of father’s love, there were roses of different colors in our garden, white, red, yellow, blue. How many other types of flowers were there in my father’s garden, Gandha Raj, Rangan, Dolan Champa, Jaba, Hasna Henna, Chamili, Kamini, how many other types of flowers were there in my father’s love garden. Kamini trees on both sides of the stairs going up in front of the house, the furniture of the house was filled with the fragrance of kamini flowers, the strong fragrance of laughter came from the garden. On one side of the house, the juniper tree went up to the roof. The sweet smell of jui flowers used to intoxicate us when we went to the roof. On the other side, Bhogan Villier was lying on the grill holding the red shower door. When you go down the stairs of the inner house, there was a flower tree. He used to spread the flowers on the dew-wet grass. Now they are nothing so you didn’t understand if this is our house or not?

Do you remember our backyard fruit garden? Which fruit tree was not in our fruit garden? Parents and our brothers and sisters loved fruit garden. We had mango, jam, jackfruit, guava, katbel, harbarui, kamaranga, barui, olive, lemon, coconut betel nut and even bay leaf, cinnamon tree. We never had to buy jams, jackfruits, olives, coconuts, betel nuts, bay leaves and cinnamon from the market. There were so many results that Amma used to distribute it among neighbors and relatives. There was no account of coconut betel. They continued to produce throughout the year. Our parents decorated the interior and exterior of the house with such joy and love. Our house was filled with so much love, so much joy, so much love, so much wealth, so much abundance. Spring breeze has ever blown in this house. Sometimes the baridhara of Shravan wets us.

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In the lonely afternoon, the sound of the rustling of the coconut betel nut tree was boring. You know, they are now nothing but cut and trimmed. I can no longer hear the call of the cuckoo. The call of the dove at noon used to make the heart cry, now all that is gone. What will be done, tell me that there is no tree in the house, where will the cuckoo and dove come and sit? Even after father left, mother kept the house that way for many years, nothing was neglected. House, car, cook, janitor, everything was going on the same. When we went for a trip, I only missed my father very much, but I didn’t miss anything else. Amma did not let us feel any lack. Slowly Amma also started moving towards the forced. It became difficult for Amma to manage such a big house, full of workers engaged in various jobs.

Thinking about my mother, the brothers and sisters decided to open an English school in the basement of the house. The school started on a small scale with children in the junior class, but the school began to expand very quickly. Class after class started increasing. A three-story building is built in front of the house. Same behind the house. The existence of the fruit orchard disappeared and a playground for school boys and girls was built there. Abba’s love garden no longer existed. He cut the garden and arranged it like a school. Amma tried to object to these things, but she did not get much attention. Only the school fees have been increased significantly. Now there is only our double room. Ammar has been gone for five years but the two-storey house is still arranged like that. After my mother left, I went to our house for two or four days. But great emptiness is all around. I can’t find my childhood, my youth, my young life there. They are all lost. They do not exist anywhere. There is only my long breath, and crying from inside.

You all know how our house was full of joy and celebration of our brothers and sisters. How many people were in this house.

How many words do you remember, the driver Samshu Mia’s words when traveling from abroad. How long will you stay this time? Guava’s mother Bua used to laugh and work with her teeth clenched after drinking. I wanted to know a lot about life abroad. Ali Mia cook’s delicious cooking. Akbar Mia the doorman, Taiyab Ali the gardener. This house was full of many people. Now there is nobody and nothing. Now when I go to the country, when I go to our house, I walk on the balcony of the two floors. Abba used to sit here with his hands on the comfortable chair and read the newspaper. In the balcony there are four teak wood carved chairs and a coffee table. Amma Abba used to sit on the balcony surrounded by grills and have afternoon tea and gossip among themselves. I walked to the balcony and looked at everything. It seems to me that this huge house is like a dead man’s study hall.

Tell me why your eyes are watering like me? This is our home, whether there is a flower garden or a fruit garden. We don’t have any memories of our childhood or youth. Still, this is our home.

Something special
I wanted to write a novel about our house. Time is passing and nothing is being written. Today I tried to highlight a little of the huge house. But I still have the hope that I will write a novel about our house

Milton, Toronto, Canada.

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