Blue Door at the End of the Lane

“See you at 12 near the school ground” my uncle said to me on the phone. After 15 years, my maternal family was supporting each other in facilitating an old ancenstral property’s sale. A few months were spent by one of aunts to lobby to the rest of the family and get everyone to agree to sell the old home to a redeveloper. She was championing it and her campaign slogan was “I am completing what my sister was working so hard to get done all these years. it’s my tribute to her to finish this amicably for her”. I was the silent observer in this journey till she asked me if I was going to support them and help complete this marathon run to the finish line and ‘dispose’ the issue of the old home finally. I couldn’t help feel acidity climbing up and my blood pressure do a little twirl. Ofcourse I was going to help resolve it, sell it- I wasn’t sure yet.

As I drove the 2 hours with my brother and his wife to the small town, I was filled with disgust, remorse, emptiness and sadness. As a child i was uprooted from my safe home at the tendr age of 16, and since then never really felt at peace or at home. When I got married and was asked so many times the ancestral roots, I would proudly say my maternal grandfather’s home is still around and it’s a beautiful home filled with many memories.

Today, we were headed to sign away the home to the redeveloper and bring home our share of the maternal home. I was heartbroken. As we started the procedure, the comfortable chaos of my maternal family was soothing. It was familiar in a very unfamiliar environment. We, I guess, all were grudgingly going ahead with the sale because none of could take over the responsibility of owning that home and maintaning it over the next many decades.

I couldn’t help acknowlege the effort my grandfather must’ve made to build this home. He lived in Chennai with his family- wife and 7 kids. Summer vacations and weddings were from this home. I could actually feel the effort that it had taken to buy land, build a home and come and live there every year! Besides, there was the paying bills on time, buying the essentials when they came over to spend the summer and so much more that made a house a home. All his children got married in this house and that is what made it most precious. I lost my mom over 5 years ago, and she was attached to this home. She had spent many months living here with her grandmother, and often told me stories of their days. It’s like a piece of my heart just disappeared forever. I didnt feel so much when my paternal home in Mumbai was demolished, maybe because so much water under the bridge there that it was best not to remember the memories. I close my eyes and I always travel to the home, blue door, and the narrow lane to the house at the far end. We could see the whole leane from the gaps in the grill down to the entrance of this lane. A huge wooden door ardoned the entrance, magnificent and heavy enough to gaurd the whole family staying inside the lane.

I always marveled at my parents marriage and visiting this home meant to me that a part of them was still alive. I could imagine everything my Mom told me about those 2 days of her wedding. Her coy smiles, loud background music, my grandparents being greeted at the door, food being laid out with pride for the eligible son-in-law and family. She was the sister that got it all- handsome husband, Mumbai home and life was to change dramatically overnight.

Standing outside the house today, I know that I may never forget the door, the mud floors, narrow staircase to go to the first floor and onwards to the terrace. I could hear the giggles and laughter of the children inside the house from a different era- when families had time to spend with each other and vacations were primarily at the maternal grandfathers house.

We took emotional photos of the house, remembering the good times and secretly feeling sad. We still went ahead with the sale and may even regret it deeply, but nothing was going to change.

I can’t now say I have a maternal home anymore. I have no home where my grandparents lived. I wish I could’ve done more, wished I could’ve bought it and taken the responsibility. Wishes have been only wishes for so many things till now.