Home is
where you grow up. Home is where you settle. Home is where one sighs in relief
after a tiring day out. But home is not as simple as that.
My son
Arjun, when he was in class XII at St. Thomas’ Boys’ School, Calcutta wrote a
single-page article on what home means to him. He sent this in to a writing
competition held by Sheffield University, UK. He was awarded the second prize.
For some reason, I lost that single typed sheet. I have been looking for it
ever since I started this blog—and finally, a few days back, my wife found the
page, torn and tattered. Here’s Arjun’s essay—I hope you enjoy reading it as
much as we did. And please leave your views and comments!
WHAT HOME MEANS TO ME
Home is where you are.
On the streets. People stare because you got yourself
tonsured. You stare back because you find them interesting. You move your body.
You spend money.
You use your brain. You catch a bus. You see them spit
on the road and kick street dogs. You get agitated. In the day light, you feel
safe. Guarded by the men in armour-plated suits and ties. At night you feel
lost. You illuminate the earth. And then, like a blind man, you collide with
the next person you see.
In war-fields.
You hide from the bullets whizzing all around you while your loved ones wait
for your return. You are too scared to use your gun. So use your conscience.
While the president sits at home sipping wine, you collide with a bullet.
On a train. The landscape outside changes, the future
becomes past. Your co-passengers change as the train moves from station to
station. The summer breeze bathes your face. Different voices, different
languages surround you. And then you hear the train scream. The trains collide.
In
space.
You turn your telescope towards the sky to look back at time. And maybe someone
two million light years away is looking at an earth inhabited by Neanderthals.
Two million light years later when you are turned into dust and maybe the earth
is also gone with you they will stare in awe through telescope at the third
planet from the sun. Beaming with life colliding against each other.
A discotheque. The guitar sound fades while the masses
flow in. Voices boom out while lights flicker with the drum beat. Electronic
sounds fill the room. You have left your telescope back at the work-place along
with your brain. And then you reach out to grab it, control it, direct it,
connect it. But you can not. You get confused. You get yourself a drink. Then
you move your body. So does everybody. The light goes off. Masses collide.
At some distance the empty space lights up. And then
comes the delicate sound of thunder. And we are all one again. Tightly packed
in a nucleus. Heavier than you and me and everybody and anybody.
This is home.
We will all explode again. To separate. Fight. Mark
territory. And build walls.
ARJUN SENGUPTA
XII
ST. Thomas Boys School
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