Home

I have read somewhere that “Life is a journey homeward bound”. What of a soul who does not have a home? Where is it bound? I happened to have met with someone like that. He is a gypsy roaming land to land without a purpose. By a lot of standards this guy seems strange to me. How can he still smile? Does he still believe he will find something? I almost get irritated when I see his juvenile attitude. Playing with kids, helping out strangers, roaming free like a cow, eating leftovers and still sleeping on the road with a content look. How does he do that? Has his quest turned him bonkers? Or does he not know that he is truly lost?

I couldn’t take it anymore and thus with an intention to confront him and find out what is wrong with him I went and sat next to him near a fireplace.  He recognized me. We exchanged smiles. I started straight away by explaining him how he is lost and his actions are symptoms of madness. I ended by saying he would never find his home and his life is a defeated purpose. He listened to me intently, patiently and asked “What is a home?”

I reciprocated the patience and answered back “Where you feel secure”

“It is a bunker then?” He said

“You know what I mean” I said

“Do you know what you mean?” He said and then he started.

“Home is where your soul is content. It is a full stop to your set of sentences (Could be a joke, essay or an epic). It took me months of darkness to realise that. But when I did realise that the chirping birds sounded like my siblings calling, Drop of water falling from a petal felt like the gentle hands of my mother feeding and sun’s rays were the dutiful backing of my father. I lied down on the grass and I felt like diffusing into the ground like a sugar cube dissolves in water. Boy I was home. Home sweet home”